The Trials of War
by AtinBralor
Summary: Act 1 of The Three Acts of Kappa Squad. Follow the fates of Kappa Squad - a commando unit trained by notoriously harsh Mandalorian Sergeant Walon Vau - through the Clones Wars as they learn to work together in the face of everything a warzone can throw at them.
1. Chapter 1

**_AN: Welcome to my new undertaking. I have already briefly introduced Kappa Squad in their Kamino years. These stories are set in a separate 'verse from all my others, so these do not tie in directly with what has happened in any of my other works. This is not important at this stage but it will become important when a particular character joins the story. I will have a reminder at that particular chapter as well because this message may be long forgotten by that point!_** ** _I hope you get to love my boys. I have been planning this 'verse for many months now and this is my first shot at an entirely OC squad/focal point. I hope to do them justice._**

 ** _So without further rambles, let me introduce my boys. I hope you all enjoy this story. You're in for the long haul with this squad and I hope you come to love them like I do._**

 ** _Regards, Atin._**

* * *

 ** _The Three Acts of Kappa Squad_**

 ** _Act 1: The Trials of War_**

* * *

 ** _Arca Barracks, Coruscant - 22BBY_**

Geonosis had been the first hell to rain down on the commando squads, and it had been worse than anything they could have expected. It wasn't a job for trained commandos. They'd been sent out like infantry and decimated.

Many squads had come back shattered apart.

 _Some hadn't come back at all._

Kappa Squad were one of the _lucky_ ones. They had come through Geonosis more or less in one piece, depending on what you considered 'whole'.

They had been raised from infancy as a crack force by the Mandalorian training sergeant Walon Vau but it hadn't been the training they'd needed for Geonosis. Varik had done his best to be a good leader to them, following the commands and attempting to fulfil them with their own skillset. It had been enough to bring them through alive. That was a blessing because they had returned to Arca Barracks on Coruscant, completely shaken up, only to join brothers who were mourning losses.

Some had lost their entire squad and become 'orphans', for want of a better word. They'd spent every moment together. Everything they knew centred on their squad. And now they were alone for the first time ever.

 _Some were coping. Others were shadows of men._

Command were piecing squads back together with new men – assuming this would work. They knew nothing about them; nothing of how they had been trained, or how they bonded together.

The distraction of being called up to defuse the Null ARCs' siege had been a welcome distraction, although if Camas had honestly believed that any number of commandos could convince even one Null to stand down, he was sorely out of touch with the men under his command.

The Nulls didn't want to be put in chill down but they were deemed 'uncontrollable' and it was a pure logistics decision. Another reminder of how this military deemed it's men to be more like units, with no rights and deserving of no respect.

No commando was putting much effort in to ending the siege.

It went on until Camas managed to locate and call in Kal Skirata, the Nulls' training sergeant. With him on side, the Nulls found their safety again and the siege was brought to an abrupt end. Many of the commandos who had trained under Skirata were also pleased to see him. He was a popular man – practically a father to his boys.

Sergeant Vau had been an entirely different type of man.

He had ruled over his squads with an iron fist, constantly pushing them to be stronger, braver, bolder…and if they failed, he was quick to dish out punishment. He had an antique Mandalorian beskad – a traditional sabre of around forty five centimetres length, which could part flesh from bone. They never saw him carry it as part of his kit, but he was more than happy to bring it out to enforce a lesson.

None of Kappa Squad had ever been on the receiving end of this weapon, but they had seen others flayed apart with it. They'd seen brothers rendered unconscious and sent to the infirmary, returning often more than a week later with a new set of healed scars.

It was a reign of terror.

They worked hard with the incentive of avoiding those punishments.

And now Kappa Squad were being shipped out again. Hopefully this time their assignment would be more fitting for their training. They were to meet with their newly assigned Jedi General to hear the mission briefing, kit up and then head out to wherever they were being sent. It was possibly a positive for them. They'd been cooped up for too long and time idle was grating at them all.

Varik's temper – which was infamous among the commando vode – had been stretched beyond measure. He was constantly looking over his shoulder out of habit, fearing that he may be pulled up for doing something wrong. Vau was no longer in charge of them, but it was the habit of a lifetime and he was not adapting well. He was terrorising his squad in an attempt to get some control back.

Mire was doing his level best to keep the peace, even checking his kit over for what seemed like the hundredth time despite knowing it was all perfect. It was worth the work if it would ease the boiling pressure. Unfortunately it didn't seem to be working.

Varik was still pacing the barracks like a caged nexu, growling at anyone and everyone that came near. He was counting down the minutes until they needed to leave for the meeting, despite knowing that his squad would be perfectly capable of ensuring they were ready.

Faro was already kitted up and sitting on his bunk, idling fiddling with his helmet when he thought Varik wasn't looking. He knew he could make the electronics work better for him – it was his area of expertise – but his squad sergeant could be a little tetchy about anyone doing anything that could be construed as 'against regs'. Technically that included tampering with their equipment, but everyone made adaptations. He just made sure not to do it when Varik was on the rampage – or at least, not when he could see.

"Where's Haar?" Varik spun on the spot and started marching back towards the door. His patience had worn out. It was like watching a timer ticking down and his brothers knew him well enough to understand that he had just hit zero. "We need to get going. We don't want to be late and I _told_ him to be here."

Faro slid down from his bunk with a thump and rammed his helmet on, ready to do as he was told in order to keep the peace.

Mire glanced at his quieter brother then back towards Varik who looked as if he was warming up to take the warpath. This was where he had to step in. He'd been doing this all his life as well – part of his unique skill. Keeping the peace. And preventing Varik from terrorising Haar. "He was showering. I'll go and get him. We'll catch up."

He grabbed his own helmet and took off before his brother could have anything to say on the matter. He knew that Haar was keeping a low profile and the last thing his nervy brother needed was having Varik come down on him like a rancor.

He found Haar exactly where he expected; hiding in the showers, because they were a quiet, safe spot.

His brother had come through Geonosis in one piece, just like the rest of him, but the psychological battle still seemed to be going on in his mind. His fear matched the intensity of Varik's anger. The sooner they got out on a mission the better it would be. It would give him something to focus on other than replaying Geonosis over and over again.

"Hey, vod'ika." Mire settled down on the bench at his brother's side. "You ready to go and meet out mystical Jedi?"

Haar was already kitted up but his mind was miles away. His hair was wet so at least he had actually showered and not just holed up in here for safety. It was always hard to guess what was going on with him, but Mire had learned to read him better than anyone. Being a good squad meant looking out for each other, and that meant looking after the weaker members. Haar was an outstanding sniper and a superb commando, but his mind was his own worst enemy.

He had never got this bad before, but then they'd never had idle time between missions like this before. The fear that bubbled quietly in the background had erupted like a volcano after Geonosis. It was all they could do to keep him as calm as possible. Once they were out on a mission they'd be good again.

Haar closed his eyes and counted to three under his breath. Once he completed that, he rammed his helmet on and pushed off the bench, turning to Mire. "Ready." His voice shook a little, but he was steady in his motions. "The sooner we're out, the sooner…"

He ground to a halt and a visible tremor ran through his body.

Mire move to his brother's side and touched his arm. "Udesii…udesii. You're okay." He paused, waiting patiently for Haar to unfreeze and begin to walk again. When possible, he took the softly-softly approach. Rushing Haar just made things worse but Varik never seemed to appreciate that. Their sergeant was always so desperate to cover up for the sniper that he pushed and pushed until Haar was falling apart at the seams. Sometimes Faro stepped in but more often than not he was tied up in his own thoughts, which left Mire trying to hold the squad together.

They managed. They always managed. Together they had kept one step ahead of Vau's targets and avoided punishment.

They were a good squad, and that had got them through Geonosis.

And one day at a time, they would continue getting through this war.

 _Together_.

* * *

E'linvhara had been assigned his first mission as a Jedi General in control of clone commandos.

He barely felt ready to manage his own position, never mind that of other men, but that was what being a Jedi was all about.

Truthfully, he wished he could ship out with them and take part, rather than managing from the side-lines.

He was a Vheric Twi'lek. His ancestors were warriors. His own family had been warriors. If he hadn't been taken in to the Jedi Order as an infant, _he_ would have become a warrior himself.

Instead, he was a peace keeper being assigned to a warzone. It made no sense at all. He was only a few years older than the men sitting in front of him and he was meant to send them out in to danger like some sort of dictator, on missions which seemed to give no care for their safety.

He sank down his seat at the table, bringing up the holochart of the area they were being sent to. He was allowed to accompany them on the flight in, but he had to leave them at the drop zone….wish them luck and hope that he was fortunate enough to have men to pick up again at the end of it.

He could read them in the Force and they felt like children. It was completely jarring with the image powerful men sat before him. They were all scared, in their own ways, but despite the sniper seeming to flash the most powerful nerves, it was the sergeant who was the most affected. The Force around the young man named Varik was clouded and dark with this all-encompassing terror of failure. It was like a poison that was slowly destroying him from the inside out.

The feeling made his skin crawl and he his lekku twitched – a visible display of tension, although he doubted his non-Twi'lek companions would realise this. He ran a hands over his lek, subconsciously hiding his own nerves.

He could feel their attention on him and he felt unworthy of it.

Normally he shut his mind down to the thoughts of others, but he was feeling so harried that he hadn't been keeping his mental shields up.

They were all interested in his scars. It wasn't surprising, considering their own training – scars were normal – but his were clearly decorative and the questions were on the tip of their minds, only held at bay by the command gap between them.

"It's part of my culture…the scarring. They're not just decorative. It's part of reaching adulthood. The tattoos and scarification show that I am a Vheric Twi'lek." He could feel them squirreling away that information to research further. They absorbed material at an alarming rate and if they were alarmed at having their thoughts read, they hid it well.

His lilac skin was marked more heavily in ink than a normal Twi'lek. Instead of just shaping in eyebrows to give them a more conventionally human appearance he also had thick black lines marking below his eyes and following the curve of his high cheekbones. A vertical line ran down the centre of his face, between his eyes to the end of the nose, restarting on his chin to continue down his throat. Raised lines of white scar tissue accented these tattoos in a way that you never saw on other Twi'leks. Some Twi'lek cultures may include small amounts of decorative tattoos or small scars, but none had the same degree of artistry that the Vheric used on their bodies. It was like a war paint and each clan had their own pattern. He may not remember his family, but he had kept up with his own culture, refusing to toss it aside despite his Jedi training. There was more to his being than his connection to the Force. He wore the tattoos with pride, aware that he was still a warrior of sorts even if he had grown up different to the rest of his ancestors.

He felt the circular scars upon his lekku whenever he smoothed his hands over them and it was a subtle comfort to him.

He wasn't scared at all. He just wanted to do his job right and now that held more importance than it ever could.

If he messed up, these men's lives would be at risk.

That was pressure beyond anything the Order had every thrown at him before.

It was made worse by the knowledge of just how little they were meant to care about their troops. His Master had pulled him in to an abrupt meeting about his new responsibilities and while he couldn't find it in his heart to describe the closest person he had to a family as 'callous', he could still see her sneer when he asked about troop wellbeing…leave…pay…

He was responsible for briefing and managing four hundred slave soldiers. Commandos…the best of the best.

 _Slaves._

Child slaves…ten years old.

Letting his mind dwell on the thought of this army had made him physically sick and meeting them in person was bringing the same churning nausea.

He could walk away and refuse to lead them, but all that would happen was they'd be handed over to someone else and that person may treat them like his Master would.

If they were going to be _used_ by this army, he was going to make damned sure that someone showed them respect and care. He wanted to kit up and take to the terrain with them but he was forbidden.

Instead he would arm them with every tidbit of intel he could lay his hands on, the best in weaponry and technology, then pray to every deity that would listen in the hope that they survived.

This was his life now just as much as it was theirs.

In certain ways they were very alike; without parents, raised in a strange environment, denied childhood.

These men were his brothers-in-arms more than any Jedi would ever be.

They weren't disposable units.

They were men.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Three commando squads had been assigned to this joint task. Theta had been sent to destroy a series of facilities that the Republic believed were potential research areas. They may currently appear to be unoccupied but intelligence believed they were fully fitted and ready to become operational at the drop of the hat.

The threat was a potential nanovirus. It was believed that it was designed to target the clone genome and therefore eradicate the clone army, effectively crippling the Grand Army of the Republic. If this turned out to be true then their short lifespan would become incredibly brief.

At least this mission meant something to them. This was an investment in their own safety.

The newly reformed Omega Squad where in transit to Qiilura.

Meanwhile Kappa had been dropped in to the dense rainforests of the planet Cisca. Technically neutral, but potentially hiding a huge threat to the Republic. That's where they came in.

They had been tasked with infiltrating the facility, seizing the lead scientist and a sample of the work, all without creating too much disruption. It may sound simple enough on flimsy to those in command, but little was known about the details or defensive strategies that may be waiting for them when they got there.

There were so many unknowns and that made it feel more homely than infantry work on Geonosis ever had.

They'd been completely misused and so many of their brothers lay dead because of this complete incompetent nature of their leaders. Varik had been dreading meeting their assigned Jedi, expected to meet yet another one of these asinine individuals, playing god with their shiny sticks, but E'linvhara had proven to be completely different. He seemed to be concerned about sending the squad out on the mission. It had looked like he was going to follow them on to the transport. He'd stopped with one foot on the ramp, wishing them well and it had taken the pilot starting up the engines to remind him that he had to turn and walk away.

The flight had been thirteen hours which could have been spent resting up but instead Varik had them going over the plans and schematics for the planet for the first eight hours. After that they took the opportunity to get a little sleep. Mire and Faro were out like a light but Varik couldn't settle and Haar merely dozed on and off, waking with a jolt whenever he dipped in to dreams.

They rappelled in under the cover of darkness to give themselves the best chance of getting placed without blowing their cover at the outset. Instead of increasing the risk by inserting close to the facility with little intel, they had started out nearly a two day trek away. That wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the dense, muggy rainforest all around them. Even the armour systems were struggling to keep them comfortable.

They strode on in silence until they reached their first planned rest stop. They'd sleep in two shifts and get a little something to eat. That was the plan – but the heat was making everything hard work. Faro and Haar won the toss for the first sleep rotation, although sleeping curled up on the forest floor was far from ideal. They didn't need a tent or anything like that since the armour did its best to moderate the temperature and humidity, and it would just be one more thing to carry and they were doing their best to travel light.

The concept of travelling light was a strange one to a commando squad, but they had limited themselves to the bare essentials to get in and out discreetly.

When the duty turned over, Mire only slept for a few hours before giving up. The sweat was running down his skin below the undersuit and making everything sticky and uncomfortable. They'd camped out next to a river which had been suitable for providing them with fresh water and it now looked incredibly inviting. With Haar and Faro on watch – and no contact with anything apart from local animal life – he felt safe enough to strip down and have a wash.

"I'm glad we've already filled our canteens." Faro was perched on a rock by the riverside, watching for anything approaching along the densely forested animal track that they'd traipsed along to get this far. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to his brother, but the 360 degree vision in the HUD had allowed him to keep a check. His calm and often seemingly disinterested nature betrayed a wicked sense of humour. It only slipped through in these quiet moments when the squad were comparatively relaxed and Varik wasn't hanging over them like a bad smell.

Haar giggled softly, glancing down from his position in the branches of a wide tree. He was propped up against the trunk with one leg dangling and the other stretched along the branch. Without Varik growling at him he could take it easy for a few hours. A little slice of bliss – even if he _was_ on watch.

Mire waded in to the deepest part of the river and submerged briefly to wash his hair, trusting his brothers to watch his back. When he surfaced again he heard the beginnings of an argument from the shore.

It only took moments for the calm atmosphere to plummet.

Varik had obviously given up on sleep as well and was up with his usual bristling efficiency. It didn't matter that they had agreed to rest for a set period of time; if they were all awake, he wanted them moving again. Getting ahead of schedule was advantageous on missions like this since you didn't know exactly what was around the next bend.

Haar was sloping out of the tree with a definite cloud of misery descending over him. If his sergeant was awake, then he was most likely under scrutiny, and Haar didn't do very well under those conditions. This only resulted in more pressure and arguments to sour the atmosphere.

"C'mon, Mire, what are you playing at?" Varik had stepped in to the shallows, gesturing at his brother to get out the water. "Get out and get dressed. We need to be moving."

There was no point in arguing, so Mire rolled his eyes before turning around to face them. "Just give me a minute, ner vod." He took another dip below the surface just because he could – and came back up with a yelp, spluttering on a mouthful of water. He cursed loudly, trying to see over his own shoulder, reaching around to swat at his shoulder.

All attention had turned to him in a mix of concern and frustration at the sudden loud noise which could potentially give away their position. Faro had advanced towards him, wading through the water complete with armour. "Are you okay? What happened?" He was the closest the squad had to a medic, purely by being the one who read the most and had delved a little deeper than the standard medical training they'd received from Sergeant Gilamar. They were all acceptable emergency medics – they had to be – but Faro had a few more skills up his sleeve and a caring nature, when he was paying enough attention to notice what was going on. He spent so much time absorbed in his own thoughts; it made him appear self-centred to the casual observer. He reached for Mire and dragged him back towards the shore.

Mire was still trying to look at his own shoulder, willing his head to pivot like an owl's. "I don't know…something bit me…" He stilled and allowed Faro to turn carefully explore the skin over his left shoulder blade. "Is there a mark?"

Faro ran his hands carefully over the skin, searching for any damage. There was only the slightest of bumps and it was barely visible to the naked eye. "There's only a tiny mark, vod'ika. Does it hurt?"

Varik strode over to take a look, running his hand over to assess the damage. "You can't even see it. Do what you need to do and get some clothes on. We can't stop for every little insect bite…you're meant to be a commando; the best of the best." He gave him a shove that was hard enough to be more than friendly joking around. "Shift it, c'mon!"

Mire huffed a sigh and glanced up at Faro apologetically. "Thank you…it felt like a narglatch had grabbed my shoulder but it's okay now. I just had a bit of a _moment_ …lost my cool." He blushed a little and glanced down at himself. He was clean, but wet, and he was going to have to get straight back in to his undersuit like this. He'd been hoping to sit and dry out in the sun…maybe even wash his undersuit as well, but Varik was awake and if he said it was time to move on, then it was time to move on. It wouldn't make much difference; he'd be sweating himself wet within a matter of hours anyway.

Haar had already set to gathering up the scattered kit, keen to slip under Varik's radar while the sergeant was on a rant. He collected Mire's belongings together and set them out in the best order for kitting up. They didn't have much to pack up; commando's carried everything they needed on the armour or within the backpack but that amounted to very little in the way of personal comforts. Most of the space was set aside for technology and weapons. The only concern they had was ensuring they kept topping up their water and staying hydrated to counteract the effects of the heat and humidity. Dehydration could be a greater threat than any droid, but they had planned the route that would take them past plenty water sources that could be scanned with their advanced kit to ensure they were suitable for providing potable water.

Faro was helping his brother get kitted up quickly while Varik waited impatiently, half turned towards the animal track that went in the general direction of their next RV point. He had his deece cradled in his arms and was ready to take his turn on point. He didn't say anything, but they could feel his glower through the visor just as well as they would if they were face to face. The helmet posed no barrier to men raised in the armour from infancy. Unlike regular troopers who wore training armour, the commando squads wore the full kit right through their training. They had to learn to work with it because it was as much a part of them as their own limbs were. It offered enhanced features that other clones didn't benefit from but it was more than just protection. You had to be comfortable with your kit in order to perform to the highest levels. The Katarn and the DC-17M were a fundamental part of their life. Being parted from them was unthinkable.

Once Mire was ready the squad moved off silently in to the dense forest, blending with the shadows and vines. It was good cover, but it came with plenty hidden risks. It made it all too easy for predators or enemies to creep up on them if they let their attention slip. Faro brought up the rear, walking backwards whenever the terrain was level enough to avoid tripping. They all had painted armour but his, with its emerald green accents among the drab grey and white camo, helped him blend in better than any of his brothers. If he stood still he became near invisible in the foliage; an advantage in this type of hostile environment.

It hadn't been so beneficial on Geonosis, where everything that the eye could behold ranged in various shades of brown. They'd had to work hard to stay alive and they weren't about to forget that in a hurry. Regardless of how simple and safe the mission had been in the first day, they weren't about to let that lull them in to a false sense of security. The closer they got to the facility the greater the risk of detection. And that was to say nothing about potential threats from animal life. They knew that several large feline species roamed these rainforests; just because they hadn't encountered one yet didn't meant they wouldn't. The deece would make short work of any attacking creature but that relied on them getting a bead on it quick enough…so there was no time for letting their attention wander from the task at hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

There was a sense of quiet relief among the squad when they finally reached the edge of the forest. It had been a long uphill struggle, particularly in the final few hours, but they had reached the point where the densely forested mountains butted up against a sudden increase in incline which was practically cliff-faces. This would seem like a horrendous and vulnerable task to have to scale these cliffs to get up to the plateau where the facility was located if it hadn't been for the GPR plots included in the mission brief.

It wasn't often that things were so nicely laid out for them, but they had access to these holomaps that showed a series of honeycomb caves running through the rock.

It would be quite an undertaking, with the total time required within the cave route of around eighteen hours. The dark wasn't an issue to them and they wouldn't get lost…it was just a long time in those conditions and they were already getting on each other's nerves.

Ideally, they wanted to complete this in one trek but that may not be possible. They had mapped out a potential chasm to stop in near the exit from the caves where they could rest up before heading out to complete the objective. It wasn't advisable to attempt to enter the facility while they were all suffering from lack of sleep so they agreed on the plan and made their way in to the caves.

It wasn't so bad to begin with…at least it was a change from the rainforest, but the dark was oppressive and claustrophobic.

Faro led them through the caves, closely followed by Varik. He didn't mind taking charge occasionally and he was best with working from these types of complex three dimensional scans. They were all capable, but Faro was least likely to lead them up a dead end. That didn't stop Varik following very close behind and checking all decisions on his own HUD.

Mire was bringing up the rear, keeping the glow of Haar's backpack in sight. Usually he was up there trying to keep the morale up but he was over heated and uncomfortable. He'd gulped down more water when they paused for breaks but he still felt vaguely nauseous. It wasn't any more than inconvenient but he certainly wasn't in the frame of mind for wrestling with the group personalities.

They could argue it out amongst themselves today. As long as he didn't have to listen.

He had his own comm connection off. It could be overridden by Varik, but generally they took the hint and left each other alone when someone made that choice.

He'd never met other squads who shut themselves out quite like this. Most brothers seemed to enjoy the chat to lighten the mood.

But not Kappa.

* * *

Haar wasn't paying all that much attention on the surroundings. He'd long since given up trying to make something enjoyable out of this environment.

It was hot, humid and cramped. There was nothing to be happy about.

He wasn't a fan walking through oppressively narrow and increasingly low tunnels – none of them were – but he was still holding out for some sort of geological miracle. He knew that you occasionally got larger internal caves worn away in these types of strata and had hoped they'd come across one. That would have been something to break the monotony. And it would let them stretch out a bit more – maybe ease some of the aches that came with walking half-crouched for so long.

He was so preoccupied that he walked in to the back of Varik with a curse and a clatter of armour plates. He might have got away with that but Mire stumbled in to the back of him with equal distraction and together they shoved Varik off balance against the wall of the tunnel.

The sergeant drew himself back up to full height and turned on them, growling angrily. "Watch it!"

Haar was quick to back off, his hands raised in defence. "Sorry, sir." He glanced towards Faro, silently questioning why they'd come to a halt. He couldn't see anything much and was relying on just following along behind them. Faro had his helmet light on to light his way but they didn't want them all on because it got disorientating with too many bobbing lights.

"Time to get wet." Faro motioned forward, tilting his head so that his lamp illuminated the way ahead. The tunnel sloped down sharply and clearly dipped below the water table. "It comes out above water and we have plenty air to get through the submerged sections. It shouldn't be any problem." He tried to fill his voice with confidence because he could already see the defence in Haar's body language.

The sniper was not at home with getting in any water…certainly not a narrow, claustrophobic tunnel of water. He had nearly drowned on Kamino and that fear had stayed with him, growing exponentially with every other fearful experience. They'd got him to the stage where he could cope with being submerged in full kit, but the tunnel aspect was clearly pushing his boundaries.

"I…I can't." Haar backed up, clattering in to Mire in his haste to get away. "Vode, pelase…" He couldn't even put his fear in to words. His whole body had shut down; his only focus was now defence. His heart hammered in his chest like a drum, making him breathe faster. His own armour recorded his vital signs and he could see just how much they spiked.

So could his brothers.

Varik stepped forward and grasped his arm, shaking him as if to jerk him from the grips of fear. "We're going through. Move!" He felt Haar freeze up so yanked harder, forcing him forward up the tunnel in increments. "We've been over this. It's water. It will stay on the outside of your armour and you will not come in to contact with it…"

He was almost patient sounding, compared to his usual temper but that patience was short lived in the face of Haar's complete refusal to cooperate.

The sniper dug his heels in, trying to squirm free and escape the grasp on his arms.

Varik's temper spiked, all attempts of understanding and coaching going completely out the window in the face of this insubordination. He thumped him hard, knocking him against the wall before resuming his grip, twisting his arm up behind his back as leverage. "Don't you dare…" He snapped at Faro before he could intervene.

Haar struggled, the fear exploded within him as Varik tried to bodily shove him forward in to the water. It give him that burst of super powered adrenaline that came with the misplaced fear that he _had_ to get free to preserve his life.

He wrenched himself free, pummeling his sergeant back with a blow to the side of the helmet then retreated rapidly, not stopping until he was behind Haar and as far from Varik – and the water – as possible.

He couldn't stop the shaking in his muscles now. It was pure survival mechanism, regardless of how illogical it may be. He knew that he would be safe, but there was just no way he could do this. It was one thing to submerge, in armour, within a large body of water…but with a tunnel came a whole host of extra fears.

Primarily, the crippling terror that he would get trapped if the tunnel narrowed too much. The armour only had a finite volume of oxygen…you _would_ suffocate eventually.

He glanced pleadingly towards Mire. His brother was always the one to step in and calm things down but today he just didn't seem on the ball at all. He could see Mire's POV icon and he was leaning against the tunnel wall with his head dipped. It gave the appearance of him staring at his feet, but he appeared to be resting.

Instead, it was Faro who stepped forward again, this time refusing to back down at Varik's growl. He sent the map to each of them with a route highlighted. "There's an alternative. We can adapt…that's what we were taught, wasn't it?" There was carefully managed exasperation in his tone. He didn't like getting involved in the arguments, but trying to force Haar through the submerged tunnels would only make the task more dangerous. There was no question that their brother would panic. He was practically hyperventilating _before_ even dipping a toe in. It wasn't wise to proceed like that. "That route will re-join the correct tunnel, it just takes a little longer. We're ahead of schedule. It'll work perfectly well."

He watched Varik carefully, tracking his body language to pre-empt any outbursts.

But nothing developed.

The silence stretched out before Varik turned and motioned for him to start back the way they came.

Haar shrank back against the wall, avoiding any confrontation before falling in to step, this time behind Mire.

His brother had said a word throughout the entire confrontation which was most unlike him. He watched him move ahead of him, noting the stiffness of his movements and summarising that he must be feeling the aches and pains of poor posture in the cramped space. He wanted to say something – to ask how he was coping – but that would mean intruding on his peace, and the last thing he needed was any more arguments.

Varik wasn't letting the topic drop and took the silence as a clear chance to rant at Haar, berating him endlessly about his complete incapability in water. They were meant to be the best and that was not how the best men performed. If this was Kamino then that would be a fail.

And a refusal like that could have been enough to black list a trooper. If you couldn't complete the required skillset then you may find yourself disposed of. You weren't worth the time and effort of training if you're skills were lacking in certain areas.

The mention of Kamino and failure sent a chill through Haar, but he stayed silent, listening to everything Varik had to say.

He knew that he would be on death row if this was Kamino. He'd been lucky to get through and graduate…he was eternally thankful to be given the chance to live.

He didn't have the confidence that his brothers displayed, but he had adapted and felt that he made up for his problems. You'd be hard pressed to find a better sniper…

 _Maybe that was the only reason he was allowed to live._

His entire value in this world was as a tool of war.

But at least he was alive.

So he settled in to the rhythm of the trudging footsteps ahead of him and hung his head to listen to Varik's words. Maybe – one day – he'd get it right. Maybe the fear would evaporate with time. Exposure helped ease it all away.

He could dream.

There had to be something to look forward to after this hell.

It was just a case of thinking of those dreams.

And putting one foot in front of the other.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Preparation in the final hours was more important than any amount of recon. They needed to be ready for whatever the mission could throw at them and that meant ensuring they were in top condition. They stopped in one of the final chasms in the honeycomb network of tunnels to sleep in relative safety.

They had agreed in advance that Varik and Haar would be the ones to infiltrate the facility and capture the target. Mire and Faro would patrol the exterior to ensure that they didn't become trapped, ready to provide back up in a moment's notice. It was safer – and easier – to split up like this. Republic Commandos were far from discreet in their tank like armour so it was wiser to avoid infiltrating together as a group. If two went in alone, they stood a better chance of getting in and out unnoticed.

So the infiltration team were getting a final few hours' sleep in preparation.

Faro had taken the datapad and was doing a final recce of the mission brief, checking for any details that might have been missed. It was highly unlikely that they'd overlook anything but it was a good use of the time. He had an eye for detail and a patience which exceeded that of his brothers.

He also had Mire dozing against his shoulder, which was slightly off putting because his brother had slept like a log and should be relatively awake by now, but instead of helping with the prep, Mire seemed half asleep. He wasn't leaning heavily so he wasn't actually sleeping, but he hadn't moved for hours.

He nudged his shoulder to rouse his brother. It was time to start getting ready – to wake Haar and Varik from their slumber and start the final trek. They had a final portion of ration cubes that was to be breakfast. It was mid-morning in local time, which would seem like the worst time to plan the infiltration but they couldn't go in under cover of darkness because they needed to capture the scientist. They had no idea whether she stayed on the premises or not, so there were too many unknowns with that option.

They woke Haar first so that he had the chance to be awake and alert before Varik went on one of his pre-mission stress rants. If simulation missions had been hard, that held nothing on the tension of these pre-insert moments.

Varik went through his usual morning routine as if grimly determined that nothing would come between him and order. He shaved carefully, ate his tasteless rations and brushed his teeth while his brothers went about their own habits. Nobody else had taken the time to shave and he wanted to tell them off – force them to smarten up – but a little voice in the back of his head reminded him that it was unnecessary and they had more important things to discuss.

He watched them, trying to assess their moods.

Faro seemed calm as always. He was sitting cross legged against the wall, checking over his kit. Haar was doing the same thing.

It was Mire who stood out most this morning.

He'd eaten his ration cube just like everyone else, but there was something in his body language that was abnormal. Maybe it was a sign of stress. This was their first true mission after all and that was a huge pressure. Training had always been serious, with the opposition shooting to kill, but now they had the added stress of knowing that their target was important. If this scientist was working on some form of chemical warfare aimed at his brothers, failure to succeed could be the equivalent of signing off their death certificates.

Varik waited until Faro and Haar had finished their kit checks, then took a deep breath and stepped up to his role as squad sergeant. He led them out the tunnels and on towards the facility, shutting his mind to every fear that was attempting to bubble to the surface.

This was what they had been trained for.

They were the best of the best.

* * *

Getting in to the facility had been remarkably easy. Varik had stood guard while Haar disabled the locks and let them in. It was clear that this facility was deemed secret and secure because they found no protection within the hallways.

They'd anticipated droids, or even human guards, but it was quiet.

They split up and searched the maze of hallways, looking for the main laboratory. It was Haar who found it and called in his location to their sergeant. There were five individuals at work, judging by the heat signatures, and they had no idea what was about to descend upon them.

"We need to find out who is out prime target. We need the research leader and nobody else." Varik stood to one side of the door opposite his brother, preparing a small charge device to blow open the lock. "So we can't go in shooting in case we kill the wrong one or release a contaminant."

Haar reached for his belt, taking two flashbangs. "Temporarily disable them, secure the door…but how do you anticipate we'll be able to pick the correct one?" He felt sure that a one-in-five chance of success was not odds in their favour and surely they wouldn't want to give away their lead scientist easily.

"Civvies, Haar. They don't protect each other…they'll all be clamouring to save their own skin." He secured his device to the door and motioned for his brother to step back to a safe distance. "And I'm counting on our learned friend having an ego to match…" He raised his hand to count down silently.

 _Three…two…one…_

The small blast took out the lock and Haar darted forward first to throw the flashbang grenades through the opening gap. Their own helmets kicked in with filters and baffling to protect them but it was enough to floor those unfortunate souls inside.

Varik strode in to the laboratory, while Haar took position at the door, guarding the escape.

He grabbed the individuals and forced them in to a corner, holding his deece on them in unmistakable threat. "Shut up and stand still." His voice was harsh, made harder by the helmet projection.

He prowled between the benches, examining the work. He had no idea what he was looking at, but he needed to take an example back with him for analysis and there was no way he was going to allow his ignorance to give them the upper hand.

Everything in here was potentially lethal to him, if the recon was correct. He had a special box on his belt which he removed and clicked open. It was secure – made from the same material as his armour – and would provide a safe means of transporting samples. This wasn't stuff you wanted to have rolling around in your pockets while you made a run for it.

He wandered over to the secured cabinet filled with tiny vials. There was nothing to distinguish between them so he reached in a selected a few at random, filling his box with care. Over his shoulder he heard a stifled sound from the cowering group. He was trusting Haar to protect him while he rifled through the samples but it appeared that this was an unnecessary measure. They were too scared of him to make a move.

It was Haar who was getting edgy. Time was of the essence and they didn't want to hang around here for too long. He had his back to the open door but his 360 degree HUD allowed him to keep track of anything happening in the hallway behind him. Nobody would be creeping up on them.

He wasn't really listening to what his brother was saying to the civvies – he needed all his attention on his surroundings if he was to keep watch for both this room and the hall – but whatever he said worked because there was a short scream as Varik pulled forward short, stout female then turned his deece on the other four. The weapon flashed and the woman screamed again as her fellow researchers fell in a hail of shots.

Varik clamped his free hand over her mouth to silence her and motioned for Haar to assist him. They had a tranquiliser so that they could remove her without excessive fuss if she fought back but he didn't have a free hand to administer it. He held her tight until Haar could stab her with the hypospray.

It didn't take long for the drug to take affect and she slumped to the floor in a heap.

Varik cocked his head and handed his deece to Haar. "…not a very considerate individual." He motioned to the bulk. She'd painted her face in a manner which was pretty on the other female researchers, but there was only so much you could do. "Looks like someone stuck make-up on a shaved bantha." And Varik had the questionable pleasure of transporting this individual back to their RV point.

He managed to heft her across her shoulders, thanking the Manda that she was short. If she'd been tall it would have been a considerable load! He had no idea how civivies could let themselves get in to a state like his. Did they not stop eating? Did they never exercise? It was completely incomprehensible to the super-fit commandos. They'd never seen anyone shaped like this before. It was grotesque yet apparently not unusual. Another member of the research team was rather plump as well – not quite like this woman, but still carrying more than was natural.

Normally he wouldn't care how someone chose to be, but when he had to carry them, he felt that he was within his right to judge…

* * *

They were nearing the RV when Faro called in with a garbled panic. Haar came to a halt beside Varik, hearing him cursing up a storm. "Plan, Sarge?" He'd heard the distress call as well – Mire was down and Faro taken a shot protecting his brother. What was worrying was that Mire had just collapsed. He hadn't been injured in skirmish.

Varik lowered his burden to the ground in an unceremonious heap. "You take this pile of osik back to the RV and I'll go back and help them. The transport's already been called in." He took the box from his belt and secured it on his brother's. "Get everything back and complete the mission. That must come first." He didn't want to think about losing his brother's on their very first mission, but the importance of their job had been drilled in to him. It was most important to ensure that the scientist and her samples were delivered to the transport in one piece. If Haar could do that, then he could go back again and help his vode.

He made his way back and found them taking shelter at the base of a large tree surrounded by downed droids. Mire was slumped against the tree trunk while Faro stood guard, supporting himself with his trunk against the tree. He was clearly favouring his right leg.

Varik checked around them carefully then made it across the trees to their side, tamping down the panic. He had two injured brothers…he couldn't carry them both.

Faro seemed immensely relieved to see their sergeant. He had been doing his best to protect them but one droid had got a lucky shot that hit his knee. He waved a hand dismissively, motioning towards Mire. "It was just a glancing shot, I'm fine. I'm not sure about Mire though." He shifted awkwardly, wanting to kneel down and help but he was sure that if he got down he wouldn't be able to stand up again. "He just went down without warning…"

Varik squatted down and systematically checked Mire's armour for signs of shots that might have hit him without Faro noticing but there was nothing at all. He could see his brother's vital signs on the shared armour systems. His heart beat and respiration rate were up but he couldn't see an injuries at all. He went for the low tech solution; grabbing his brother by the shoulders and trying to shake him awake. "Mire…Mire, c'mon, ner vod. We need to get out of here. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Mire pulled himself more upright but didn't give any sort of logical reply. He was rambling something about Omega Squad doing better than them.

Varik didn't have a clue what could be wrong – it could be any number of things and they didn't have time to go in to it right here. He was going to have to carry him. This really wasn't his day for heavy loads, although he didn't resent hefting his brother like he resented the overweight female. Having said that, Mire was a load and a half to attempt to lift. The commandos were six foot of solid muscle encased in heavy armour systems and he staggered under the load.

It was going to be hard work crossing the two klicks like this. Faro may be putting a brave face on his injury but he was limping increasingly with every step and his pained breaths were rasping in their shared comm link.

They got to the halfway point before Faro ground to a halt, struggling to stay upright on the injured limb. The blood was beginning to trail and congeal on the shin of his armour. His energy was sapping and he was struggling to keep moving forward. He was the closest they had to a squad medic and he had to take the time to stop and administer a shot of pain relief in the hope of blanking out the pain for that final klick. They were so close to the end and he was extremely concerned about Mire.

They'd been doing well, but his brother had just collapsed without warning. He was mentally prepared for treating injuries but he had no idea what to do when he was without explanation.

They had only just started struggling forward again, painfully slow now, when the sound of movement in the trees ahead made them both raise their deece and shift in to defensive positions. Faro had automatically gone to drop down in to a crouch but his knee screamed at him with the sudden movement, leaving him gasping for breath.

They expected to see something threatening advancing towards them but instead the leaves parted to reveal the lilac skinned Jedi who had seen them off mere days ago. It seemed like much longer than that but regardless, they were pleased to see a friendly face.

Varik would have saluted but he had one hand on his deece and the other gripping tightly to Mire's armour to prevent him slipping from his shoulders. Faro had given up his battle and collapsed to the forest floor to rest his leg, breathing carefully to control the pain.

Jedi E'linvhara had met Haar when he reached the RV point with the scientist and upon hearing what had happened to the second half of the squad he couldn't sit by idly waiting to see if they made it. He'd left Haar with the pilots and headed out to see if he could help. He'd reached out with the Force to locate his squad, finding them relatively easily because they were emanating waves of distress, pain and confusion that lead him in like a beacon.

He sampled the Force around each member of the trio, finding Mire to be in the worst state. Faro was in a lot of pain but Mire had a feeling of fire flowing through his body. There was something untoward which he couldn't quite pin down, but they had to get him back to the Larty and safely back to the ship.

He placed a hand on Varik's shoulder, sending a few calming thoughts in his direction. "I'll carry Mire the final klick. Faro needs your help."

Varik seemed reluctant. The Jedi may stand at a similar height as them but he just wasn't built as solidly as the commandos – few were. "With respect, sir, he's a dead weight." Despite extensive lifelong training, Varik was beginning to struggle so how would the Jedi manage.

Suddenly he felt the weight lessen and he had a moment of panic, assuming that he was going to drop him, but the weight kept shifting until Mire lifted clear of his shoulders.

E'linvhara stepped closer and carefully manoeuvred until he had Mire across his own shoulders before releasing the Force lift. He smiled at Varik who was still watching him with what he was sure must be open mouthed shock behind the helmet. "I have certain tricks up my sleeve. He's no trouble for me, now look lively, my brother; we need to get back with haste."

He had his squad safe within his protection. Faro could limp along with an arm slung around his sergeant's shoulders. They were so close to getting back safely.

He had been told that his role was to manage these men minimally but he couldn't do that. The two days had been torture while he stressed about them. Technically he should have waited at the Larty to see if the remaining three commandos arrived back within the time limit before the needed to evac.

That was completely at odds with what he believed a good Jedi should be. How could you be morally true if you left men to die when you were in a position to help? His life was no more valuable than theirs.

He may not have known these men long but he felt a far deeper connection with the young warriors than he did with any other Jedi.

He was his own man. He'd do what he felt was correct. And if that meant taking his own instructions with a pinch of salt, then so be it. He was to lead these men and exactly how he chose to do this was his own decision.

He'd just have to deal with anyone else who felt differently.

But first, they had to get back to the gunship and get the wounded treated. Priority number one. Then he would deal with the scientist. Haar had her cuffed and shackled so she wasn't of immediate concern – far less concern to him than the wellbeing of his men.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The gunship was idling when they made it through the forest. Haar was pacing back and forward, ready to pull them all on board. His cargo was strapped up tight and shackled to the wall, leaving him free handed to assist.

He helped E'linvhara, who had lowered Mire to the deck and was attempting to remove his armour. The kit was complicated to an outsider, but they had grown up with it. He silently pointed out the catches and explained the process of removal with haste and little patience but the Jedi seemed to catch on quickly.

When they pulled off Mire's helmet they realised just how pale he had become.

Haar ran his fingers down along the seams of the bodysuit, peeling it away carefully; expecting to come across some horrendous injury at any moment, but there wasn't a mark on his brother's chest or stomach.

E'linvhara had come to a halt at the waistband of the bodysuit but Haar didn't. It took him a moment to realise that the Jedi was trying to maintain a degree of modesty for their brother. That meant nothing to clones – he'd learn that soon enough. Modesty was a wasted effort for them. The moment the medics got hold of him they'd have him stripped in seconds regardless. It was a regular routine for them.

Before he could do much else, their living cargo decided to make herself known again, struggling against the shackles and squealing in distress. She appeared to be trying to injure herself – she was obviously starting to realise there was no getting away. She clearly wasn't thinking straight, but being locked in a small gunship hold with four angry commandos and a Jedi was probably extremely sobering when they were on the opposition.

"Keep her still, I'll stay here." The Jedi placed his hands on Mire's shoulders and prepared to use the Force to work out what was wrong. He was no healer, but he could try to soothe the distress in whatever way he could.

Mire was muttering quietly, almost silent. None of what he was saying made much sense. He was rambling about insects but they were safe in the cool hold of the gunship.

The forest may have been full of insects but there was nothing here.

Mire started to cough, curling over on to his side and that was when the injury suddenly became clear.

It wasn't a shot wound or anything like that. The skin of Mire's shoulder had taken on an angry red tone, clearly swollen and tight. The commando's skin was a warm tan shade which masked some of the damage, but towards the lower point of his shoulder blade the skin was purpling and black around a tiny little pinprick mark.

It suddenly became clear. Mire wasn't rambling complete nonsense.

"This was an insect bite?" E'linvhara leant over to examine the wound. It was definitely going necrotic and there was nothing he could do for that. He could feel Varik's attention drawn to it as well. "Medics are waiting for the gunship. Should be no more than five minutes before we disembark. What can I give him?"

Varik thrust a handful of single use syringes towards him. "Pain relief and a stim shot, sir." He was occupied with Faro, applying pressure to the bleeding wound and holding the limb steady.

They had all removed their helmets, and Faro looked remarkably unconcerned about his own injury. He'd had a sharp of strong pain killer and it was nothing that a day in bacta wouldn't solve. He was more concerned about Mire. He desperately wanted his brother to sit up and make some joke, but that was wishful thinking.

Their injured demolition expert barely reacted to the needles in his thigh, but he was trembling uncontrollably, coughing hard and retching.

The Jedi removed his lightweight wrap, leaving himself bare chested and used it as a blanket for Mire's shivering body. He placed a lilac hand on the man's forehead and felt the skin burning like fire. He took his canteen of water and carefully dribbled a little in to the clone's mouth, ensuring that he didn't make him choke. It was all he could do to make him as comfortable as possible as the minutes counted down.

He felt lost and completely out of his depth but he could also feel the fear from his squad, so he did his best to push that feeling down and focus on appearing calm. There was nothing they could do for either Faro or Mire, so it was just a case of being patient. The pilots were taking them back at high speed so it wouldn't be long.

"S..sir?" The stim shot seemed to have helped bring Mire out of his confused rambling state. "General E'lin…E'linvha…" He gulped to a halt with a rather distressed expression on his face. The motion of the larty was making him decidedly nauseous despite it having never bothered him before. He was reduced to desperately thinking of how to avoid the sick feeling rising in his stomach.

"Just E'li will do fine. I understand the whole thing is a bit of a mouthful." The twi'lek moved to help Mire sit up more against the bulkhead, ensuring to wrap the cloak around him against the chill. He could feel his own skin prickling but the commando's need for comfort was greater than his at the moment. "Just try to relax. There's medics awaiting our arrival."

Mire tried to push the cloak away. The last thing he needed was to lose his rations in the General's presence, but if he did so on his cloak he felt he'd never be able to live that down. "Water, sir?"

E'li could feel Mire's distress but he insistently re-wrapped the cloak then handed over his canteen.

Varik was watching them from his own spot at Faro's side. His brother was in a state somewhere between unconsciousness and exhaustion, slumped against his shoulder, and Haar was busy with the scientist so maybe they didn't notice, but he couldn't help but find himself staring at the Jedi.

He had expected the twi'lek to be slightly built under the robes but that was far from the truth. He wasn't didn't have the muscle that the commandos had, but he was still sturdily build for someone who waved a shiny stick around.

Even more unusual was the small knife in his belt.

It was barely big enough to do more than pick your teeth with, but it wasn't a typical Jedi weapon. Under the robes it was invisible. A potential back up for when the fighting got too close for a lightsaber?

The patterns of scarring also extending beyond his face and lekku. His chest was heavily marked in intricate patterns, although his back was smooth and unmarred. That seemed strange when it was obvious that the scarring was decorative rather than from an injury. Why didn't it extend over his back? There must be a complex story to this that was beyond Varik's comprehension.

He thought about asking, but he couldn't pluck up the courage. And then they were landing in the hanger of the rescue ship. So much for returning straight to Coruscant after the mission. It's be a few days in bacta for Faro and Force only knew what was going to happen with Mire's shoulder.

The Jedi would take the prisoner back and they'd follow on as soon as they could. That was the back-up plan in case of things going wrong. At least they had E'linvhara to pick up the pieces. It hadn't gone completely to osik after all.

The scientist would be questioned. The samples would be analysed. And depending on how the other squads got on, they may just have prevented this nano-virus from developing.

He stepped back as the blast doors opened to reveal the bustling hanger and waiting medical team. They'd take it from here. His brothers would be safe and he'd have time to go over the mission. There were lessons to be learned and mistakes to be ironed out. It had been far from perfect and he could just hear Vau's voice in his head, reminding him of the penalties for poor performance.

They had performed poorly.

They might well have got the target, but it could have been disaster. The squad could have been halved, and that would have left him with only Haar which was about as much use as being given half a person.

He watched for a moment to ensure that his brothers were being treated, then followed the trooper who had been assigned the task of showing him to their quarters. Haar had declined the offer, stating that he would find his way along soon.

Varik didn't care. He needed some time along to think and the desire to give his sniper vod another shouting at was whirling around the forefront of his mind.

What had he been thinking about, refusing an order? If they'd gone through those submerged tunnels the timing would have been better and maybe they'd have got in and out without injury. There were so many 'what ifs' and he just couldn't look at his brother right now.

It was time to think. Once he had it straightened out in his mind, then he'd act upon his thoughts.

He just didn't need reminding of how close it had come to failure.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

E'linvhara watched the squad fracture apart, feeling the Force like a shattered glass as soon as they landed in the hanger and the requirement to work together for the mission lifted.

Varik had gone to their allotted quarters.

Haar had vanished in the opposite direction, completely shut down and silent.

Faro had been taken by a pair of medics for bacta submersion to treat his comparatively simple injury, while the majority of the medical team swarmed around Mire, getting on to a stretcher and rushing him to a treatment room in the medbay.

E'li stood for a moment trying to work out what to do. Their prisoner had been taken to a cell so that wasn't a pressing concern. His instructions were to get her back to Coruscant but that would mean leaving his squad behind and he didn't want to do that – especially not with the emotions that were coming off the men. He felt that his role as a good Jedi was to looking after those damaged individuals, trying to bring them back together and work out what was causing this splintering. The scientist would still be there for him to get to. By removing them they had temporarily slowed the threat of the nanovirus so he had a little time to play with.

He would stay with his squad and then they would go back together to Coruscant.

It just meant conveniently ignoring any messages that appeared on his comm.

So instead of following instructions he decided to use his initiative. He reached out tentatively towards his squad using the Force, unwilling to dive forward and startle them by intruding in their minds, but enough to get a taste of their current state. It was Mire's presence that sprang out at him first. He was scared, alone and in pain – parted from his brothers for the first time in a strange location with no control whatsoever.

E'li took off down the hall in the direction of the medbay, following the trail of distress in the Force.

He managed to get in without any obstruction – most likely because he was a Jedi and that seemed to give him rights above and beyond those he would expect to have. He was only stopped by a clone outside the room Mire had been taken in to, and even then it was only to be instructed to wash the blood and dirt from his arms.

When he pushed the door controls he was met by a rush of pain and misery in the Force that was being accented by harsh pulses of terror.

Mire was doing a good job of hiding the fear, but it was clear to the Jedi that he was very scared.

The commando had lost his lost his battle with the nausea but was now hooked up to a series of intravenous drips feeding in fluids, pain relief and anti-emetics which were just beginning to take effect. He had been laid out on his stomach so that they could clean up his shoulder with ease and it was clear how trapped he felt by it.

It was clear to E'li.

He didn't understand how the medics didn't realise as well. But then maybe they did but they had a job to do – they didn't have time to reassure him.

E'li could do that.

He carefully manoeuvred his way past the clones and took the position at the head of the bed. It was out of the way but crucially, right beside the commando.

Mire had his head resting on his folded arms, trying to still the uncontrollable tremors that were brought about by fear. He was cold, exposed and in pain. They had a blanket pulled up to his waist but his body still seemed to be struggling to regulate his temperature and he was sure his teeth were chattering despite the sweat on his brow. Everything was back to front, tight, stinging and uncomfortable.

 _He wanted one of his brothers to be there to protect him – despite the fact that he knew he didn't need protected from medics who were actively trying to help him._

 _He wanted to know if Faro was okay. After his collapse, he'd been in no state to react to anything but was dimly aware of Faro's cry of pain and then flashes of memories; blood on his brother's armour and their stumbling attempts to get to safety._

When he felt the slightly scratchy hands on his arms he had no idea what was touching him, but when he twisted his head slowly to the side, it all became clear.

The skin was a vibrant lilac, the hands strong and square like his own but with sharp claw-like nails.

"E'li?"

He was sure he had to be hallucinating. _What were these damned medics pumping in to him?_

"Yes, Mire, I'm here." E'li ran one hand down the commando's forearm to grip his hand discreetly, feeling him squeeze back hard as the medics continued to dig open and clean out the necrotic wound. He cautiously pressed forward, trying to send some calming waves through the force, unsure of whether or not it would be well received.

Mire twitched visibly, startled by the touch against his mind but he welcomed it. It felt like smooth violet waves washing over him, pushing back the fear and claustrophobia of being trapped on his stomach and pinned down by so many hands. The gentle connection opened up between his own mind and the twi'lek in front of him helped channel the swell of mental and physical symptoms, allowing him to find a balance where he could relax enough to process the experience.

He trusted the medic brothers.

They'd explained that they would trim away any dead tissue, tidy the wound then place him in bacta under mild sedation to allow him to get some rest while the antibiotics and bacta did their job. He would be longer in the medbay than Faro because he had at least a week of intravenous antibiotics to complete. What had been a simple bug bite had become a nasty case of cellulitis and then septicaemia which had been what led to his collapse.

For something so little, it had become a much bigger issue than it should have done.

He closed his fingers around E'li's again, using him as an anchor to get him through the experience. He had wanted his brothers by his side but E'li had presented himself, showing his clear concern and Mire wasn't about to push away that sort of care. He hadn't expected that of the Jedi, but E'li was very different to many of his initial perceptions.

He wanted to ask questions about the intricate scars visible on the twi'leks bare chest but the meds were fuddling his brain and he knew nothing would come out how he intended, so he stored it away as a question to ask when he was sober again.

For now he just took advantage of the waves of violet comfort and squeezed the offered hand with all his might as the scalpel bit in to flesh again.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Kappa Squad spent a little over a week on the ship, recuperating and preparing to head back to Coruscant. It seemed like much longer to Varik and Haar, who spent the majority of the time keeping as far apart as possible.

E'li divided his time between looking out for the squad and doing his best to keep the peace, then spending time questioning the scientist. She was turning out to be an easy target because as soon as she realised nobody was going to come and rescue her, she lost all her fight and gave over the information readily. She seemed under some illusion that this would get her freedom, but despite handing over everything the needed to know, she would still be heading for a maximum security facility.

Not a nice outcome, but then she was helping create a weapon of mass destruction – aimed to exterminate the clone army. In E'li's mind, that was a gross enough crime to deserve life incarceration. It was merciful. She deserved a taste of her own medicine as far as he was concerned. It was such a cowardly way to kill people. He didn't mind so much the idea of facing down an enemy, but to be taken out by a nano-virus was just wrong. You didn't stand a chance. And she would been able to sit back and distance herself, pretending she wasn't doing the killing.

He was happy to hand her over to the Coruscant Guards for her transfer to whichever facility she was destined.

She sobbed, but he still couldn't bring himself to feel any sympathy.

She kept claiming that she was a civilian – innocent of wrong doing – but she was as much a soldier as his squad were. She just fought dirty.

He'd seen inside her mind, breaking apart her thoughts and what he had found disgusting him. She didn't think of the clones as humans. That was how she justified creating a weapon to kill them. She had them in the same mental category as droids.

 _She didn't deserve sympathy._

* * *

They still had a few days off before their return to active duty and E'li took it upon himself to get them out and about on Coruscant. It seemed that if he left them to their own devices, they would splinter and go about their own individual interests. He observed them for the first day and found that Varik was trying to get them training again despite their remaining down time.

Mire was still unfit for duty and Faro was meant to be taking it easy, completing a series of exercises each day to strengthen his freshly healed knee. There was no damage any more, but it was still a little weak from the days in bacta.

Mire, on the other hand, was still showing the lasting after effects of his injury. He'd been put through bacta immersion and a strong run of antibiotics, and while it had healed up the nasty infection, it had also left him feelings rather wrung out. He was starting to get his bounce back now but it would be a little longer before he was completely back to full fitness.

Haar had been spending a lot of time at Mire's side, helping him to clean the fresh, tender skin where the necrotic wound had been. The extent of the damage had been surprisingly large. Haar could put his big, paw-like hand on his brother's shoulder blade and the shiny scar tissue expanded beyond what he could cover. It had also gone deep enough to do damage to the underlying muscle.

Thank the Force for good medics and the superb bacta facilities available on the pick-up ship.

Rather than let his squad sit around getting on each other's nerves, he convinced them to go out for a drink. He had a small fund which was enough for them to go out for a modest evening in one of the bars which accepted clone custom. It wasn't necessarily what the fund was intended for but he felt that anything that got them out together was worth it. Maybe they'd lighten up with a little alcohol in their system.

His plan didn't quite go perfectly. He hadn't really taken in to account just how the clones' metabolism would react to alcohol and he found them getting decidedly tipsy while he was relatively sober. At least it was loosening them up.

In fact, Varik was slouched back in the corner of the booth, arms crossed over his barrel of a chest and his head tilted forward so that his chin was nearly on his chest. He wasn't quite asleep, but he was certainly mellow. Even his Force presence was calm and sleepy.

Haar and Faro were sitting opposite E'li in the three sided booth, propping each other up and nursing the dregs of their pints. E'li could help but smile at them. It was like watching the years drop away before his eyes. They had appeared aged even beyond what their advanced aging would make them. They should only be twenty years old but they had a lifetime of stress in their eyes.

But not just now. This had proven to be a perfect solution to force them to wind down. As long as he could get them all back to the barracks before they fell asleep. At least it had turned out to be a cheap night…

He would wait for Mire to return from the 'fresher before chivvying the others to get up. They were all comfortable and relaxed, and it was a pleasure to see them like this. He had a pleasant glow himself, but the cool night air would wash that away long before they got back to the barracks.

The clones would have to sleep theirs off overnight, but their rapid metabolism would hopefully prevent any lasting reminder in the morning.

* * *

It had been a pleasant night for Mire. His brothers were slightly drunk – but happy – and that was worth more than he could put in to words. It's a pity that they couldn't work on a permanent alcohol buzz. He had only taken one small drink because he was still on a handful of meds and while he hadn't been told specifically not to drink anything, he felt that it would be common sense to limit himself.

He was making his way back through the crush of bodies, dodging around those who were dancing wildly to the music. He had felt ridiculously out of place initially since they were wearing their burgundy fatigues which marked them out clearly as clones…then he realised that the armour would have done exactly that as well. They stood out regardless of what they wore – four identical faces and a Jedi would always stand out. They got a few looks initially but that stopped the longer they stayed.

His attention was diverted as he ducked out to the left to avoid a staggering dancer and he collided with someone, sending them flying. He was solid muscle and he barely felt the impact, but he heard the squeal above the noise of the music.

The body sprawled on the floor at his feet was a young female and she was rubbing her arm and staring up at him with a look of slowly dawning realisation.

"Aww, fek…" He leant down and helped her to her feet, wincing as the movement stretched the fresh skin on his shoulder. He let go of her hand instantly, stepping back out of her space and stumbling over his apologies. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. I didn't see you…"

She was still staring at him, but she seemed to manage to shake herself out of it, closing her mouth and flashing him a warm smile as she dusted off her pretty blue dress. "That's quite okay." She held out her hand to shake his, trying to quell the fluttering in her stomach. She wouldn't necessarily have known he was a clone if it weren't for the uniform fatigues, since the holonet never showed the men under the armour, but he had the uniform and an exotic handsomeness. She couldn't help but notice that he was clearly highly toned and solid muscle. "Wow…that was like walking in to a wall. You didn't even stumble!"

Mire took her hand and shook it, amazed by how small her hand was in his. She was very petite but maybe all females were. She was the first human female he's seen up close, apart from that beached whale of a scientist. "My apologies, ma'am. I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings." He allowed a small smile. "I blame the alcohol."

She grinned up at him and ran a hand through her waves of shoulder length chocolate-brown hair. "Good idea…always best to blame something else." She seemed to be weighing him up with her eyes. "My name's Nora. Do you come here often?"

Mire felt his stomach jump; enjoying the prolonged contact with her but completely out of his territory as far as conversation with civvies went. "I'm Mire. It's a pleasure to meet you. It's my first time here. We're not based on Coruscant so it's not easy to have any down time." He looked over her shoulder to wear E'li appeared to be gathering up his brothers, slowly trying to coax them out of the booth and on to their feet again. The Jedi was laughing at them, yanking on Faro's arm to get him on to his feet. "Ehm, I think I need to be going Nora. My party appears to be making a move and I don't want to be left behind." In a moment of unfounded boldness he turned her question around. "Are you often here?"

Nora laughed, plucking at her dress self-consciously. "Quite often, yes…I work here." She felt disappointed at the idea of him having to leave and she couldn't quite work out why. "Will you be back in again?"

"I hope so." Mire blushed a little, suddenly hating that he had so little control over his own life. He didn't even know where he'd be heading out to…or how long they'd be away this time. "We don't have leave, but we do get some downtime when we come back to the barracks. I'm sure we'll repeat this outing."

"That'd be nice." Nora flushed and mentally shook herself. "I mean, it'd be nice to see you around again Mire." She was making a fool of herself, acting like some starry eyed kid. "Well, good luck out there. Stay safe."

She gave the clone one last smile that warmed him straight down in to his belly, then she merged through the dancing bodies with none of the difficulty he'd experienced and Mire was left standing alone again.

He sighed, storing the imagine of her – the scent of her perfume and the tone of her laugh – all away in his mind, then pushed on through the civvies, making his way back towards his squad to return home to reality…far away from pretty girls in noisy bars.

E'li had managed to get everyone up apart from Varik, who was stubbornly snoozing. Well…that was something he knew how to solve.

"C'mon, Var'ika…shake a leg. We've got places to go! Some of us want to sleep in our bunk, not a booth."


	8. Chapter 8

The difficulties in getting semi-drunk, extremely sleeping commandos home again was not something that E'li had planned for. At no point had it occurred to him that their metabolism and inexperience would weigh on them quite as much as it had, but he was very glad that Mire had chosen not to drink more than one glass…that meant there were two of them to steer the other three back home.

E'li felt that he may have needed to use his lekku if it weren't for Mire's assistance because two hands just didn't seem to be enough to keep everyone moving forward in an orderly fashion. He was glad to avoid that necessity. Lekku were very personal and excessive contact was unpleasant, unless it was part of pleasure and foreplay; in which case the sensitivity brought a whole new dimension to the experience. _Well…that was the theory_. Growing up as a Jedi had prevented much experimentation of that nature, and rubbing your own lek just didn't seem to have the desired effect.

He held back as the entered the barracks, not wanting to wake up those already fast asleep.

It seemed that Varik was having similar thoughts, although he was past expressing them with any degree of sense.

"Shhhhhhh!" The sergeant hissed, far louder than any sound they had been making.

Faro shook his head in mock frustration. "Shush yourself, come on…let's get you bedded." He took his brother's arm to steady him while Mire efficiently stripped him down to his underwear. The barracks were pleasantly warm but they would leave it up to him whether he chose to lose that last garment or not. Many of the commandos slept naked and unlike some of the regular clones, they didn't have a female General liable to be poking around…not like the 327th…or even the 501st Commander. Even on Kamino, the only females around were hardened mandos who couldn't care less whether you were dressed or not.

He had heard rumours about the young Togrutan in the 501st and he wasn't sure what he thought about it. She was really too young to be among war and her presence was sure to put added pressure on the men as they now had to take in to consideration everything they did to ensure it was suitable for her viewing. He had also heard rumours that she happily wandered into the barracks and had narrowly avoid an eyeful on several occasions. It wasn't an ideal situation all-round but it was none of his concern. They had E'linvhara and that made life much simpler.

Varik sat heavily on his bunk, watching his brothers through half-lidded eyes. He had a dopey grin on his face that was completely out of place.

Haar was watching him nervously, but it didn't seem like the ornery sergeant was any threat tonight. He still wasn't entirely confident with this 'new and improved' Varik brought about by alcohol, and his own slight unsteadiness under the influence made him feel more vulnerable. He had helped them undress Varik because that was what brothers' did for each other. Now he was scared that some switch would flip and he'd be caught when his guard was down.

He turned to walk away, completely unsure of where he was going but just feeling the need to move away. E'li moved out the way to let him through the door, but followed him down the hall, stopping him with a gentle taloned hand.

"Breathe." The Jedi's voice was low enough not to travel back in to the barracks room. "You're okay."

Haar felt a strange sensation as his own nervous mind suddenly battling against a wave of warm calm. He recoiled – mentally and physically – stumbling back against the wall in his haste to get away from E'li's grip. The feeling of someone else in his mind made a cold sweat break out on his skin. He felt sick and suddenly abruptly sober.

E'li felt that wall go up micro-seconds before Haar tugged away. It was like a punch in the gut and it was all he could do to gather himself up and step back, hands raised in a clearly submissive gesture. "Steady, Haar, steady; I'm sorry. That was rude, I apologise." He only wanted to help – Haar clearly needed that help – but he should have asked first. He was aware of Mire stepping out of the barracks to look for his brother and knew that this was the ideal point to step back. He didn't want to leave Haar wandering alone but Mire was radiating concern and attentiveness; he would be able to help his brother better than any of E'li's learned skills. He'd never really had the chance before to use them on non-Jedi and it was clear that he'd messed up this time. He wanted to use the Force to help people, not terrorise them, but it wasn't as if you got the chance to practice these types of thing….

Mire grabbed Haar's arm preventing him from wandering away. "Kuur, vod'ika. You're okay…just a little tipsy." He kept his usual upbeat tone, not allowing his brother to panic. Haar needed firm but considerate handling to prevent a moment of fear from developing in to a full blown panic attack. They had perfected this process between them since that sort of reaction to fear would undoubtedly have led to reconditioning or possible death. They did what they needed to, in order to keep the squad functioning…even if that meant Mire occasionally running himself ragged.

Haar was staring at E'li with an eerie focus. He needed to reassure himself that this was the kind man who had looked out for them – going above and beyond the call of duty to ensure they got what the needed. He wasn't trying to harm him. It was just that _feeling_ creeping in to his mind that had startled him.

He was beginning to wish he'd never touched the alcohol. He didn't know if it was the nerves, or the intoxication but he felt his stomach turn and was forced to rush back towards the barracks and in to the 'freshers. Being unsteady on his feet didn't help but he made it and collapsed to the floor on his knees. _Why did people drink if it did this to them? What pleasure could possibly be found in a substance if it left you clinging to the 'fresher mere hours later?_

Mire and E'li had followed him – E'li, against his better judgement but unable to ignore suffering – and between them they hefted him back to his feet once he had emptied his stomach, half carrying him back to bed.

Varik was flat out on his stomach, stark naked and snoring like a buzz saw. Faro had a little more dignity and was burrowed deep under his blanket – most likely in some attempt to get away from the noise. The alcohol had clearly sent them both to sleep easily.

E'li allowed himself a smile at the sight of the pair and busied himself with tucking a blanket over the snoring sergeant. It bothered him to see the large scar down on Varik's back which seemed to imply some sort of severe injury – possibly even a broken back – at some point in his short life. The scar was faded enough to be quite old and therefore must have happened when Varik was young. Somehow that just made it even worse…to think of a child going through an injury like that. He squirrelled that away as a question to ask sometime when it felt appropriate.

Meanwhile Mire had given his nervy brother a drink of cold water, wiped the cold sweat from his brow and helped him undress. Instead of putting Haar to bed, he guided him in to his own bunk so that he could curl up with him. Varik wasn't keen on that – it was weakness, to need a brother's comfort as much as that – but since Varik was sound asleep there was nothing stopping them tonight. Haar would sleep better for a little bit of company.

E'li waited patiently until they were all situated then strode towards the door, feeling a tug that made him reluctant to leave them.

He had enjoyed the time spent with them and he found himself a little jealous of the bond they shared. Going back to his lonely room seemed miserable in comparison. He had his own small room in the barracks, which he was highly grateful for because it prevented him from having to return to the temple any more than was completely necessary. The privacy was a mark of respect for his rank, but really he'd rather have crawled in to Haar's empty bunk. Sleep would come easier with the sound of others resting around him, but that wasn't permitted.

He'd already had his ear chewed for deviating from the assigned plan. It seemed that his choice to stay by the squad while they healed had gone down like a lead balloon with his master.

 _Former master._

He liked to remind himself of that. He wasn't a padawan anymore. He could make his own decisions now.

Nobody had suffered due to his change of plan. The scientist had still been questioned and the information processed just as efficiently as it would have been on Coruscant.

If it wasn't harming anyone then he felt that there should be no problem in him choosing his own way of working. He could live with the glares, grumping and general moodiness of his former master. She held no power over him anymore and he would rather spend his time building a good relationship with these men, rather than stepping back and thinking of them as mere numbers on the page. He could feel the sharp edges around Kappa Squad and they needed some help.

His attempt to calm Haar had been a complete disaster, but he wasn't going to be disheartened.

He'd just have to try a more normal approach to gaining the trust of his men. The Force had its place, but he hadn't realised that what he was doing was intrusive until the clone had reacted so negatively.

It was a good lesson…better than many he had learned in the temple and he was sure that there would be many more like this if he spent his time with his squad rather than those Jedi he was forced to spend time with due to something as simple as both having some strange gift…or affliction, depending on what mood you were in on that particular day.

Many people looked up to the Jedi, but from the inside, E'li wasn't so sure that there wasn't a rot setting in…deep, dank and decaying – breaking apart this ridiculous Order from the inside out.

He wanted no part of that.

He would be a good Jedi for his deeds, not for his connection to a monastic cult.

Regardless of teachings, if he followed his heart, at least he would sleep soundly in his bed at night without his conscience eating away at his soul.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

After their successful but slightly stressful first mission, Kappa Squad were sent out on a series of neutralisation jobs. The work wasn't exactly simple, but it didn't run the same risks as dealing with potential nanoviruses.

Their effort had been worthwhile though since the combined labours of all three squads had brought enough information to put an end to that particular threat. They were under no delusion that this was the end of the viral threat; there would always be someone else ready to take over from those they took captive, but all three facilities had been destroyed and that would put a spanner in the works for the time being.

Mire and Faro hadn't been the only casualties on the quest. Omega Squad had come to blows with the enemy as they tried to make their escape. They had a commando in their newly reformed squad who had also been among Vau's training intake; RC-3222, known as Atin to his brothers. He had taken a significant chest injury – unfortunately finding a weakness in the katarn armour towards solid projectiles. The energy dissipating plates protected them from blaster shot, but any weapon like the Verpine rifles which fired solid ammunition presented a potentially lethal threat. What was even more disturbing was the knowledge that the squad had been fighting a Mandalorian. Logically, they knew that Mandalorians often sold their service as mercenaries so there was no guarantee that they would all be on the Republic side – in fact, ideologically, they probably sat more in the Separatist camp, but they had grown up surrounded by Mandalorian training sergeants and it was a little disconcerting to think of firing at that armour.

Their current assignment had been quite pleasant compared to many jobs. It was also their first outing with E'linvhara at their side.

Initially they had felt that this was a potential awkwardness – being in the company of a Jedi and constantly on guard with how they behaved, but it wasn't a difficulty at all.

They had a small ship - just big enough for the five of them. It had one cabin with six bunks, a cramped lounge space with even tinier galley facilities, a 'fresher and the cockpit. There really was nowhere to take yourself off to get away from each other and it was actually turning out to be very positive. They were working their way around a list of areas that needed to be recced and their time spent travelling between them was ideal for planning.

The slept in shifts, taking turns at piloting, and when there was nothing else to be done they would play cards in the lounge. The atmosphere on board was convivial and surprisingly friendly, considering the differences of opinion that usually floated around the squad.

It helped that they were all on their best behaviour because of E'linvhara's presence…

The work for today was to check out some tunnel systems before the regular troops came in. It was thought that these could be being used as a transport route for local militia, allowing them to ambush anyone attempting to attack. Kappa Squad were to go in and check the tunnels, then destroy the entrances, thus increasing the chances for the GAR forces when they were brought in.

Varik grumbled quietly under his breath as they hiked the short distance from the spot where they'd hidden the ship. _This wasn't a job for a commando team. Surely they could have just sent a lone ARC trooper to do this work. Sure, it would take one man longer – and he'd possibly be at higher risk without the backup – but it was overkill bringing in a full four man squad._

 _And they really didn't need E'li with them on this particular assignment…they didn't need the Jedi by their side ever. They were trained to work as a unit, not with a superior constantly by their side. The tension of having to watch everything he said or did was beginning to get to him._

Fortunately, for the sake of Varik's fraying temper, E'linvhara was heading on with Mire and Faro to another set of tunnels a kilometre in to the mountains, while Haar and Varik were stopping here.

The land had been mined for many hundreds of years until the mineral deposit was exhausted. This was what left these hills full of tunnels that were potentially perfect for the native community to use against them.

The tunnel mouth that they were to tackle was located halfway down a steep slope which ran down in to the flooded depths of the mining complex. The ground fell away too steeply for them to walk down and any path that might have been in place had long since eroded away from the crumbling rock face. The mouth of the tunnel was low and narrow – too small for them to squeeze in to with their armour on so they had to shed the plates, just keeping their belt on over the undersuit because it held the winch mechanism that would allow them to rappel down the slope.

Haar went first, checking the line for stability then allowing the motor to do the work. He had his deece cradled in one hand and used the other to stabilise himself on the descent. His feet disturbed rocks as he half walked, half slithered down to the ledge where the tunnel entrance was located.

He released his own rappel line, leave it free for the Sergeant to start his descent.

The tunnel mouth seemed even narrower now that he was down here beside it. He got down on to his hands and knees, squeezing his shoulders through the gap with considerable effort. This definitely wasn't a job for a squarely built clone! They needed to employ agile, dainty individuals if they wanted to go squeezing in to tunnels like this. If they kept their head down and tilted their body they would be able to crawl along as far as they needed…but they would also have to come back out in reverse.

The things they did for – well – for nothing…

He heard Varik curse and a clatter as more of the rock face tumbled down towards the flooded basin. It wasn't the most favourable of routes to have to take and the sergeant was generally pretty free with expressing his disgruntlement about a given scenario. He'd cursed his way through the entire process of preparing for the descent, only letting up when Haar agreed to go first.

Secretly, he was pretty sure Varik disliked heights but there was absolutely no way he'd admit to a fear like that – Vau had raised them fearless and Haar was the only one in the squad who held a blatant phobia. Mire and Faro were generally canny and coped with everything.

Varik liked to think he did, but he was always _sticky_ when it came to work at height. It was understandable, considering his bad experience in the very early training years. He'd broken his back in a fall and it could so easily have meant termination if the damage couldn't be healed. Fortunately the break healed well with no lasting damage – although he would undoubtedly get arthritic pain as he got older, but the chances of them living long enough or that to become a major issue were very slim. It was the one advantage of clone life; you didn't worry about the long term implications of injuries. As long as you got patched up well enough to get back to your squad, that's all that ever mattered.

He was just beginning to back out when he heard Varik call his name; the first time it was tinged with a hint of fear, then it was soon followed up by a scrambling against the rocks and a repeat which was now clear terror.

"Varik?" Without his helmet and HUD system, he had no idea what was going on outside. He started to back out faster but it there wasn't anything he could do. He heard the rocks rattle down the slope outside and the unmistakable scrambling of feet against rock, then there was a clank and a cry of fear. The bottom of the slope ended in the flooded mine basin and he heard the splash.

He didn't need to see what had happened; the cold dread filled his stomach and he just knew.

With a gargantuan effort – and a painful scrape along both shoulders – he pulled himself out on to the ledge and turned around hastily.

The cable had pulled free from the rock and his brother was out of sight below the water. The ripples across the surface showed where he had submerged but there was no sign of him coming to the surface.

There could be any amount of hidden dangers below the surface. Varik could be trapped somehow – unable to pull free and surface – or he could be unconscious…

Fear and adrenaline flooded Haar's body, fighting with duty in long microseconds, but ultimately it didn't matter how scared he was. There was no way he could possibly leave his brother and hope he surfaced. He'd heard the fear in Varik's voice and regardless of their own personal arguments, he still loved his brother.

His heart hammered in his chest, but he edged off the ledge, allowing himself to slide down the slope towards the water. There was no way he would consider jumping in because the depth was an unknown factor. He'd be no use to anyone if he broke his back.

The descent only took a few seconds because he picked up so much momentum and it took him straight off the final ledged drop in to the water with a resounding splash and a barely controllable spark of fear. He remembered to take a breath at the final moment, clawing at the slope in hope of slowing himself a little.

When he hit the water he submerged briefly before surfacing in a flail of arms. He gulped in some breaths then dropped below the surface, opening his eyes against the dirty, gritty water. His fingers closed around Varik's arm and he kicked hard, dragging his brother up to the surface.

The sergeant was unconscious, his head lolling against Haar's shoulder as he struggled to keep them both afloat. The sides of the mine basin were too steep to climb up and the more he glanced around, he came to the realisation that there was no way to get back out again now that they were in. He struggled to tread water and tamp down his own rising fear. He had to do something – he couldn't keep them both afloat indefinitely.

He had an irrational moment of thinking how much trouble he was going to get if he panicked and messed up getting them out…but if that happened, Varik might not _survive_ to be able to shout at him! That was a sobering thought – and one which made his guts clench.

No matter what happened, they were brothers, and the thought of losing Varik made his blood run cold. The squad needed him. For all his bad tempered moments, he was also a strong leader. No matter how skilled they were individually, not all men had what it took to lead. They needed Varik more than he'd ever realise, and it was only in moments like this that it all came clear.

He just had to find some method of buying them more time. The would notice if they didn't turn up back at the ship when planned…although that could be anything up to three hours away.

His communicator was on his armour up at the top of the cliff.

He couldn't shout for help because the local population would more likely take a pot shot at them if they became aware of them trapped down in the basin. There was no chance of protecting themselves if that happened. They were sitting ducks.

So he kept silent, swimming towards edge with Varik held close. If he could just get them half out on the slope, they'd at least be slightly less at risk of drowning due to exhaustion. It was too steep to get right out, but he managed to get them so that their upper torso clone to the rocks, still in the water from their waist down.

It was better than treading water.

Varik was beginning to regain consciousness but he was still dazed. He had a nasty bruise and gash on his temple so it was clear that he had hit his head sometime during his descent.

Haar pushed the sergeant a little farther out of the water to prevent him slipping back in, keeping one hand planted in the small of his back - right over that old scar.

 _What could he do?_

Without communication, he was lost. Even if he shouted, risking detection from the local population, it was unlikely that the sound would travel far enough to reach the other three. They were too far away.

He bit back another wave of fear and let his head come down to rest on Varik's back, fighting the adrenaline that wanted to make him tremble and hyperventilate.

He felt a strange feeling in his mind. It felt like someone was standing there by his shoulder – it felt like there should be someone else there – but there wasn't. There was only himself and his sergeant in this abandoned mine. Nobody else.

 _E'linvhara…the Jedi._

 _Maybe…just maybe._

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine shouting for help, in his own mind. Compartmentalising his terror and pushing it out as a mental signal. It might not work, but if the Jedi could read his mind and see his fear in the barracks; surely he would feel this terror.

Unless he had to be close – or actively concentrating on the individual.

In that case, it would be a wasted effort but it was worth a try.

He curled himself up around Varik, keeping him pressed against the rock.

 _Help! Please help! General? Help!_

All he could do was wait, hoping that the message got through somehow. He had no idea how the Force worked but it was the only idea he had.

 _Help!_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

E'li stiffened, grinding to a halt so abruptly that Faro walked in to his back. It was like being run over by a tank and he stumbled forward, catching himself against the wall of the dank tunnel, raising a hand to stem the commando's string of apologies. He had been sure he'd felt a flash of terror flit through his mind which didn't belong to himself.

He closed his eyes to concentrate, _listening_ carefully in the hope of it being repeated.

"Sir?" Mire had realised he was wandering on alone and had retreated to join them. He had no idea why they'd stopped. They were making decent progress considering the varying heights of the tunnel. Lengths like this were just big enough for them to walk upright but there were areas where they had to go on hands and knees. The General had already proven that Jedi had nothing against the use of curses when he scraped his sensitive lek on a projecting rock, and both clones had hoarded the new word away for future use. They could swear in basic and mando'a, but Ryl was a new one for them.

 _There it was again._

E'li blinked his eyes open, squinting in the dark towards the brightly lit blue visors. "Did you hear that?" He saw the t-visors turn towards each other briefly and felt their answer before they needed to give it. The cries for help had definitely been through his mind, not audible. "We need to get back; they're in trouble."

He didn't need to repeat the instructions like you might expect when breaking unexpected news like that. Clones didn't ask questions of their superiors and he was soon following them back towards the mouth of the tunnel; ensuring to tuck his head well down when they crawled through the narrow bits this time to prevent a repeat of the lek incident.

* * *

Haar was getting numb. The water had gone down the neck of their water-proofed bodysuits and he felt it unpleasant against his skin. He was still gripping his sergeant by the belt, keeping him out of the water as much as possible but it was getting more difficult as Varik regained consciousness and panicked. His thrashing had knocked them both back in to the water and it had taken Haar all his strength to calm him down enough to prevent him drowning them both.

Now safely back on the steep bank, Varik was drifting between different degrees of consciousness; complaining of nausea that Haar prayed didn't come to anything because he didn't have a free hand to ensure he didn't choke. So he just kept speaking to him, reassuring him that it would be okay, and trying to keep his mind off of the sick feeling.

He had given up and was closing his eyes to save his energy when he felt the brush against his mind and looked up in time to see the flash of purple as E'linvhara appeared at the top of the steep slope.

It was the most comforting sight he could have ever wished for because both his brother's also appeared beside the twi'lek, assessing the risk and devising a plan at record speed. This is what they were trained for; this was why they were the highly skilled Republic Commandos. When things went wrong, they would always come up with a solution.

It was E'linvhara who winched down to them because the crumbling stone had already let them down once before and he was marginally lighter than the commandos. He wasn't finely built like many twi'leks; he had the developed muscle and frame of someone who had trained just as much as the clones during his youth. But without the bulky armour, he was the lightest of the three of them.

The general got a hold of Varik, ready to take him up the slope in a tandem lift because he was past doing it alone. It was testing the strength of the connection but Faro and Mire were both ready to take some weight if necessary.

That left Haar alone and that's when the situation hit him like a club to the skull. He'd been forced to remain calm when looking after Varik, but now the pressure was removed and he was just…trapped. He was trapped in the water. He could get cramp - he could drown - it could be so easy to…to die.

Before he could get control of himself he felt that terror seize him and his chest tightened in fear.

E'linvhara turned abruptly to look down at him over his shoulder, clearly sensing that spike of fear but he couldn't do anything to come back for him until he'd offloaded Varik at the top.

It seemed like an eternity until the cable came snaking down to him and he grabbed it like a lifeline, fumbling to attach it to the winch in his belt. His hands shook and it took several attempts to get it secure. If it weren't for his gloves, he'd have scraped his hands raw on the rocks, trying to increase the speed of his climb away from the water.

E'linvhara grabbed him as he came he reached the top, clamouring to get away from the edge.

The twi'lek gripped his shoulders, holding him still and steady. He knew Haar didn't tolerate mind influence so he stuck to normal means of calming him. "Steady, my brother, you did well – you're safe now." He wanted to get them back to the ship where it was warmer and they could get dry clothing.

Faro was handling Varik, checking his reactions for signs of concussion, but they didn't have far to go to get back to where they'd left the ship. Mire slipped one of Varik's arms around his shoulders to help guide him along, leaving E'linvhara to walk with Haar. That gave the Jedi time to steady the sniper.

He desperately wanted him to use the Force to help Haar but he'd seen his extreme reaction against it so instead he walked quietly by his side. He could feel him battling the belated terror of what he had just been through despite his apparent attempt at appear untouched.

After a five minutes of silence, Haar spoke.

"He was scared."

E'linvhara glanced at the commando, watching him chew his lip in concern. It was odd to see the moments of weakness in such powerful men. It was often clear in the force around Haar, but it was a less regular occurrence to see it broadcast in his behaviour. It had been drilled in to them to act as if nothing phased them and to the casual observer, it would seem like that was true.

The reality was very much different.

He looked forward all the winding trail towards the other three. They had got further ahead and now that the ship was in sight they had picked up the pace further. They had Varik supported between them so it didn't matter that he was unsteady on his feet.

A gentle taste of the Force told him everything that he expected.

Varik had been terrified – in fact, he was still fighting the fear – it was just slowly being overtaken by a feeling of inadequacy. It seemed like Varik was more scared to do things wrong, or cause a change of plan, than he was over his actual phobia.

The change of plan didn't matter. They would work around that. As long as they were all still in one piece then that was a successful day.

E'li didn't put the success of these missions higher in the pecking order than the welfare of his men. Despite this, they would need to get it done because many more clones relied on the work they had been doing so that they could come in and do their job with as much success as possible. It might be necessary to get some assistance, but that shouldn't be an issue.

The problem was more likely to be the fallout from this failure.

He realised that Haar had turned to look at him, clearly questioning the lengthy silence.

 _What could he say? Haar was completely accurate in his readings of the squad sergeant, but he knew that…it hadn't been a question, it had been a statement of fact, sent out to the only one in a position to do anything about it._

"He won't admit the fear. I can't help unless that help is desired."

* * *

Upon reaching the small ship, they set about getting their brothers warmed up again.

Varik was getting more and more short tempered as every second passed, and he wasn't tolerant of Faro's efforts to get him undressed from the wet under-suit. He didn't like to be fussed over; it equated to weakness and he hated that. But he was unsteady on his feet and when he tried to pull away he was at risk of falling over. He still snarled at anyone and everyone that came near him.

Haar flopped down in one of the chairs in the crew lounge, slowly pulling his boots off and stripping away the bodysuit in sections. He was buoyed up on the feeling of dissipating adrenaline and he wanted a warm blanket and a hot mug of caf.

Mire joined him on the sofa, checking over the injuries with a calm attentiveness that always came with a man who handled explosives for a job.

He had bruises on his shoulders from wrenching himself back out of the tunnel, but other than that he had come through physically unhurt. He was just shivering with the cold that had crept in to his bones.

"Come." Mire held a hand out to help him up. "You're not hypothermic, but you still need to get warmed up." He was relying on the fact that Haar generally did what he asked. Haar trusted him and would let Mire convince him in to the shower.

Varik, on the other hand, was already putting up a fight. He watched Faro lean in and set the temperature for them then Haar stepped in with only minor reluctance, which soon disappeared as soon as he felt the hot water on his skin.

Varik stood in the lounge, glower through the open door in to the tiny 'fresher. He had no intention of being forced in to that tiny space with Haar. He didn't need a shower to warm up; he'd be perfectly okay. All he needed was some good painkillers, a stim and then he'd be back out there.

Faro tried to take his arm and cajole him towards the shower but he was having none of it, digging his heels in. Even when Mire joined in he still kept up this bad tempered stand. E'li had disappeared to talk on his comm again, leaving them to wrestle with their own squad.

"C'mon, Var'ika, shift your shebs." Faro leant against his brother's shoulder, trying to force him through the door with brute force alone. Varik stumbled a few steps forward but was reluctant to move any further.

The steam from the hot water was already beginning to fill the room so the sergeant didn't realise anything had changed until he felt the taloned hand against his back. E'li was remarkable good at touching skin without digging those elongated nails in unintentionally, but it had to be said that he also knew when to use them to his advantage. Varik jerked at the feeling more out of shock than any form of discomfort and that was enough forward motion for Faro and Mire to get a hold of him and practically heft him the final few steps until he was under the spray.

It was just as well the tiny room was designed as a wet room rather than having an actual shower cubicle. The floor was sailing with water that had been spread by Varik's reluctance and both Mire and Faro's armour was dripping as they retreated in to the lounge.

E'linvhara stayed in the doorway, making absolutely no move to threaten either of the two in shower, but making it quite clear that they were to stay put until told otherwise. Varik was glowering at everyone, even the Jedi, the water making the cut on his temple appear to be bleeding in a macabre manner down the side of his face. It wasn't too bad; it probably wouldn't even scar.

E'linvhara returned his glare with a look of calm, fighting the desire to send waves of comfort towards both commandos. Neither would react positively, so he just did his best to make sure they did as they were told.

He had called in help so they could still get the job done. It just meant there'd be a slight delay.

And probably no end of posturing…from both sides.

* * *

 _AN: Well...I am a free woman. Postgraduate dissertation all ready to be taken to the printers. 117 pages of hatred...does anyone finish up without hating their topic!? :P_

 _For anyone who is reading this on here only, I urge you to take a wee wander over to Author376's story Homestead on A03 (and all the others while you are there), where you will find more chapters about Kappa's antics in later years. Obviously if you don't like potential spoilers then don't...but there are additional tidbits to be had over there that won't be posted here at any point. And at this point I would also like to extend endless gratitude to Author376 for keeping me sane in the past few weeks. Every snippet and subsequent chat has been a lifeline!_

 _~ Atin_


	11. Chapter 11

_**AN: Apologies for the long time between chapters. Most of my thoughts have been on future of the squad (and those chapters are all over on AO3 under Homestead. *Hint Hint!*) - Atin**_

* * *

Right now Varik couldn't think of any way in which this could possibly get any worse. He had been practically swaddled in blankets by Faro and bundled up on one side of the sofa in the crew lounge of their undersized ship, while Haar had been allowed to wrap _himself_ up, and was sitting as far away as possible…which wasn't really all that far.

" _He_ doesn't have a concussion, Var'ika." Faro gently chastised their sergeant from his own status as stand-in medic. "You, on the other hand, _do_ have a concussion and you need to rest. Let the squad look after _you_. Take it easy for once in your life!" He emphasised his point by tugging the blankets tighter and spraying a stinging blast of bacta spray on to the cut while the crotchety sergeant had his arms too bound to retaliate.

Varik snarled and tried to wrestle himself free of the blankets, now even more determined to get up. He didn't want to be left sitting here doing nothing, regardless of how much the world wobbled as he exerted himself. He couldn't really remember what had happened to him between preparing to descend the cliff face and finding himself being hauled out the water and on to dry land among the rest of the squad. It was all a bit of a blur, and judging by the bump on his head, it had been quite a tumble to take. With this in mind, he stop struggling and settled in to sulk instead. It was easy to let his natural scowl come down over his features.

This was all going so very wrong.

 _Sergeant Vau would have thrashed him silly if he'd been here to see it._

"Wayii, what a face!" _The voice – both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time – lifted his attention abruptly towards the door._ "If the wind changes, you'll be stuck like that forever."

The voice belonged to another clone.

There were two unfamiliar vode standing in the doorway flanking E'li like some sort of guard. Varik hadn't even heard the ship come in to land – which just added to his frustration with his own condition – but he had heard E'li talking about bringing in others to help get this task completed.

The idea of someone else coming to take over his job just irked Varik even more, and the fact that they were poking fun at him sent back in to snarling mode.

E'li must have felt the tension because he moved forward, laying a hand on the arms of both newcomers, nodding at them to remove their helmets. "This pair of miscreants are here to assist in getting the reconnaissance completed on time, but don't pay their nonsense any heed." He gave them a fond look, while the one who had spoken up initially gave a bark of laughter. "This is Alpha 13 and Alpha 14 – Captain Graves and Lieutenant Misfit." He motioned for them to remove their helmets.

Faro gave them both a respectful nod – showing deference to their higher rank…something which Varik had completely ignored. "You'll need to lose the armour or you won't fit in the tunnels, sir." He motioned towards the neat pile of armour belonging to Haar and their sergeant. "It's the one bit of their kit that didn't get a ducking!" He ignored the growl from the sofa and Haar's long suffering snort.

The Alpha Captain had been silent up until this point, but now he stepped forward in to the crowded lounge space, giving both Haar and Varik a good look. When he spoke, it was a shock to all. He looked as if he would have a booming voice to match that of his enthusiastically jovial brother, but instead it was extremely soft – so faint that they struggled to hear him. The look on his brother's face sent a message loud and clear that they were not to make comment. There was a fierceness there that was truly Alpha behaviour.

"How far did you get?"

Haar strained to hear the question and now that he was paying more attention, he noted the top of some very nasty, very fresh scarring on the commando's throat. Someone had tried to slit his throat and come extremely close to success, and considering how quickly wounds healed with bacta, it couldn't have been all that long ago if it was still so fresh looking. He mentally shook himself before the protective lieutenant could notice he was staring. "Ehm, I got just inside the tunnel, but that was it. It's essentially a clean slate for you, if you can get down the slope."

"Oh, we'll get down that slope, don't you concern yourself with that!" The protective Alpha – Misfit – grinned down at him and began pulling his armour off.

They wore the enhanced version of standard trooper armour which appeared very similar to the rank and file, but actually gave them considerably more protection. Alphas were valuable and, as with standard ARC troopers and commandos, the effort was made to ensure that they lived longer to get as much use out of them as possible. A lot of time and effort went in to creating the perfect lone working commando – which made seeing this pair together all the more strange. Everything they knew about Alphas had taught them that they were pure Jango and poor team players.

The Captain looked every bit as mean as an Alpha should be. He had the sides of his head buzzed down to a fine fuzz while the top section of hair had been left to grow – a style that was popular among clones but in this case he had taken it to extremes and the hair was long enough to be twisted up into a neat bun. His hair may stand out a little from the crowd, but that had nothing on the tattoos. They covered one side of his face and seemed to show a very realistic view of the skeletal structure of the skull, as if the skin could be seen straight through. The overall affect gave him quite an intimidating appearance, which would be further aided by those scars on his throat.

Misfit leant over towards where his brother was already undressed down to his black undersuit, letting a big grin spread across his face as he weighed up the opportunity presented to him, then – much to Varik's horror – he took a swipe towards Graves' rear as he bent over to fiddle with the clasp on his boot.

To the rest of the squad, it might seem like harmless banter, but Varik didn't miss the spark between them. Graves didn't snap at his brother, or scowl; instead he merely glanced over his shoulder to give him a withering stare that held so much more than the minor frustration at his brother's antics. There was definitely a little frustration in his eyes but it was more than balanced out by the humour and sheer adoration. There was no better word to describe it. It went so much further than simply love.

 _But it was wrong, and it made Varik uncomfortable to witness such behaviour between two brothers. It was immoral and completely inappropriate, regardless of whether they were regular infantry or elite Alphas._

He deliberately turned his head away when he caught sight of them leaning in for a brief kiss, but he still caught it out the corner of his eye. Had it _not_ been two vode, it might have been sweet to see such care and affection, but between two clones it disgusted him. If they _had_ to do such things, it should be in privacy.

It really was a day going from bad to worse. First he failed his assignment, then he had to hand over control to two fekking Alphas, who now turned out to have typical bullish Alpha disregard for what was appropriate behaviour in public.

If he could, he would turn over and have a sleep to pass the time without having to watch the goings on, but Faro had told him to stay awake and instructed Haar to ensure that he did. According to Faro, it wasn't wise to go to sleep after a concussion.

He'd deal with _that_ once the rest of them had gone back out to finish the work but for now he was under surveillance and he didn't like it. Haar was easily intimidated and would back down quickly once the rest were gone, so for now, the best he could do was ignore these inappropriately behaved louts and wait patiently.

It was going to be a testing wait, especially since Mire had joined them from the 'fresher and was happily laughing and gossiping with Misfit. He had that sort of easy attitude that allowed him to slot in with pretty much anyone and get on well – even with Alphas. Varik had always envied him that ability, because it didn't come as naturally to him as it did to his vod. When Varik got to know people, he could chat, but he often scared people away with his attitude long before they made any connection.

Not that he wanted connection…he didn't want to be like those two. It was wrong. Just because they'd only had brothers around them growing up didn't meant that they had to cave to those feelings. There was power in being chaste. It was certainly better than that display he'd witnessed moments before. What irked him even more was the fact that E'li had merely smiled fondly at the sickening display playing out between the Alphas.

 _It should be his role to stop this behaviour…not to smile about it…_

Once again, it was as if E'li could read his mind.

The Jedi stepped forward to hurry them along, briefing the Alphas on the task in hand.

Before heading out the ship, Faro returned to Varik's side one last time. He cocked his head and smiled down at his sergeant with gently affection, tidying the blankets and checking that the bacta had settled well over the head wound. Once he was satisfied that everything was as it should be, he gripped Varik's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, trying to remind him that he didn't _have_ to be in control at every moment. The squad had his six. They always did, whether he needed it or not.

"Behave yourself, Var'ika. And rest."


	12. Chapter 12

This had been a phenomenally bad idea, but the General made the rules. They'd been gone for nearly ten hours now, leaving Haar to look after their foul tempered sergeant. He'd done his best to keep Varik awake despite the fact he just wanted to sleep it off.

Faro had said to keep him awake, and Faro stood in place of any medic when they were out alone. He knew best what to do with injuries – although they all knew how to deal with a concussion. They didn't really want to let him go to sleep in case there was a lurking head injury – although he'd been under enforced observation for long enough that he could probably be allowed a few hours kip.

That was the theory. Haar didn't much fancy having to wake him up every few hours; he'd be in an even worse mood when woken than he already was!

Haar did his best to be caring and do what he could to make him more comfortable. He knew that a hit to the head was unpleasant, even if there was no lasting damage. Not to mention the fact that he knew Varik was still battling the terror from his fall. He may not be speaking about it, but they all knew it had shaken him up badly. Anything that involved heights reminded him of the training incident that had broken his back, and the fall had not only bashed him about, but it had also opened that can of worms. If only he'd actually talk, maybe they could hammer it out between them and get him less on edge…but that wasn't going to happen. And Haar's docile nature only went so far.

He'd been letting the sergeant's rants wash over him without paying much heed, but when it got personal, he felt his own hackles rise. He tried to ignore the criticism – the blame shifting. Nobody was punishing them, yet Varik still seemed determined to push the blame away from himself.

Haar heard every criticism possible.

' _You didn't check it properly.'_

' _You must have used faulty equipment.'_

' _You weren't paying enough attention.'_

But when Varik reached the point of accusing him of malicious malpractice, Haar saw red.

' _You tried to get rid of me.'_

He couldn't turn a blind eye to that, partly because it was just a stupid thing to say – they were brothers and brothers watched out for each other, even if they weren't the best of buddies – but not only that, he had risked his own life to rescue the sergeant. He'd faced his own phobias and his actions had undoubtedly saved Varik's life.

It happened to be the Alpha pair who were first through the door and therefore first to see the brawl in full flow. They may have shouted at them, but neither heard; far too busy knocking lumps out of each other to notice the intrusion.

Strong hands pulled them apart, but it was E'li's bellow that brought them back to reality.

He sounded furious – and disappointed. Haar couldn't tell which he found worst. He was being held in the tight grasp of the creepy-shebs Alpha Captain and allowed himself to be led away from Varik. While Faro squeezed past the mass of bodies crammed in to the small ship in order to re-examine their sergeant.

The wound on temple was bleeding again, his lip was split and his nose bloody. _Haar wasn't a natural brawler, but he had learned to make up for this by fighting dirty; he always went for the face – demoralising and if you played your cards right, you might just put them off their game long enough to get the upper hand._

E'li strode between them, glaring at both men. "We don't have time for this. What's gotten in to you?" His accent was stronger when he was angry, going from soft lilting to a sharp drawl that was heavily tinged with Ryl intonations. "Who started this?"

Haar shook his head involuntarily – trying to shake the fog of anger that was clouding his judgement. He wasn't quite sure whether to take responsibility. Technically, he had struck the first blow, but he felt that the provocation counted as part of the fight. He had started the day with no intention to fight. He' been trying to look after Varik, but charity only went so far.

Neither spoke up, but glowered across the space at each other.

Misfit squeezed his way across to speak quietly in to the General's ear, keeping his voice low enough that nobody else would hear. Whatever he'd said, E'li seemed to agree as he was nodding his head in reply.

The Alpha then weaved across to them, raising his eyebrows at Graves. "Haar's coming with us back to Coruscant. We'll meet them there."

The reasoning was unspoken but clear.

 _It took the pressure off of Faro and Mire – it meant they didn't have to deal with the volcanic tempers as well as making Varik comfortable. They were heading straight back so that the sergeant could be checked out in the medical facilities, and it made little difference how they were divided between the two ships; but for Haar it felt like he was being shunned._

He hung his head as he followed them down the ramp. Leaving his squad, and his General behind. There'd been no chance to explain what the fight was about. No chance to stand up for himself. He may not be in trouble, but it was like a naughty civvie kid being sent to bed with no supper.

He trailed along behind them, ignoring the quite chatter as they pushed through undergrowth to get to where the second ship was hidden.

They were talking about him – he knew it – but he wasn't giving them the satisfaction of a reaction. He just wanted to get on board and go to sleep. Maybe he could sleep away the entire journey back to Coruscant. In these small transports, it would take them anything up to two days to make the journey.

Maybe it was time to take up hibernation.

* * *

 _Misfit reclined in his spot in the booth, watching the activities of the bar going on around them. It was still relatively early for a midweek evening and the space was much emptier than it would be at the weekend._

 _He stirred his straw around in the vibrant blue drink which tasted sweeter than uj and watched E'li sipping at his own much more conservatively coloured beverage. The Jedi had chosen to wear some of his most un-Jedi-like tunics, and with the soft lighting glinted off bare, toned arms he had drawn the gazes of a few individuals spread across the bar. He was a handsome man – that was clear enough even to Misfit, who was happily taken (and pretty confident that the twi'lek was as straight as could be)._

 _Despite his observations, it wasn't any of the eagle-eyed observers that approached them – instead it was one of the servers; a curvy brunette whom he was sure looked attractive to those of that persuasion. He expected her to ask about the drinks, or try to sell them more, but she paused as if trying to decide whether to speak or not. When she did, it was towards E'li._

 _She spoke up enough to be heard over the music, but she still appeared anxious and unsure about how to speak to a Jedi. They held this strange role in society – especially on Coruscant – and she almost seemed to be deciding whether she should make some mark of deference…a curtsy or something…_

 _"Ehm, excuse me for interrupting your night, but I'm sure I remember seeing you here before." She licked her lips and her posture relaxed a little under E'li's friendly smile. "Were you here with a clone named Mire?"_

 _E'li nodded, feeling a surge of pleasure inside his chest when he realised that Mire had clearly made an impression here. He'd been learning first hand just how naïve the men under his command were towards all things that weren't part of their training, and civvie females fell strongly into that category. He could feel warmth radiating from her mind – a pleasant, soft feeling of proto-affection towards Kappa's demolitions expert. "I was here will Mire and his squad a while ago. Unfortunately they've not had a lot of time in Coruscant since, so they've not been back. This is Lieutenant A-14; he answers to many things, but Misfit it the safest." He gave her a bright smile, ignoring the Alphas not-really-discreet kick under the table. "And my name is E'linvhara, but that is a bit of a mouthful, so I go by E'li when I'm with my squads."_

 _The server turned a shy smile towards Misfit, inclining her head in greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. My name's Nora." She cast a quick look over her shoulder to ensure she wasn't needed elsewhere before continuing. "Can you tell me how Mire's doing? Is that allowed?"_

 _E'li opened mouth to reply, but before he could say a word he felt a dull malevolent intent at the back of his mind followed by an almost painful needle of abrupt fear from Graves that was so intense that it made him touch his own chest as if the pain were actually in his body and not just in the force._

 _He didn't wait for any further feelings; he leapt from the booth and made for the door, dodging confused patrons and skimming past those mingling around the entrance outside. He didn't need the force once he was outside – he just ran in the opposite way to the general public. They were all rushing away from something and he only had to turn for first corner on to the side street to find Graves._

 _By some grace of the Force, Maze was also there. Misfit had mentioned the fact that they were attempting to get him out for a few drinks, but Maze was so often a stick in the mud about coming out and they honestly hadn't expecting him to agree this time either._

 _Misfit wasn't far behind him. He may not be as used to time in E'li's presence as Graves was, but he knew enough. He didn't need to ask questions; he simply reacted as he had been trained to do since infancy. E'li hadn't said anything before taking off, but it didn't take a genius to put two and two together and it made Misfit's stomach clench around those excessively sweet drinks. They had been waiting for Graves to catch up with them when he finished his meeting with Captain Maze. He'd said he wouldn't be far behind them…_

 _He'd bolted out the club, following the twi'lek and leaving the confused female standing by their vacated table._

 _Most of the public had moved away from the scene – nobody willing to move in to assist, and Misfit could only assume they didn't want to help a clone. Graves was on his knees, banked heavily against Maze's body with his hands clasped to his throat. He was gasping and choking, strands of blood and saliva dribbling from his mouth._

 _E'li closed the distance, pushing people aside with the force and watching as Maze promptly adjusted Graves' position until he was on his side – allowing the blood to flow out of his mouth._

 _The taciturn Alpha had taken control, completely oblivious to their approach. He was speaking to Graves in a low voice, patting his back firmly then checking his mouth for obstructions._

 _Graves had stopped moving so much and the gasping had become more intermittent and desperate._

 _E'li spun around and grabbed Misfit's arm. "Get back to the bar, get their medkit and clear a table, then call in medical support." His voice was far from calm, no matter how much he was attempting to be the cool, in-control Jedi figure. He had his own body open to Graves' and the Alpha was both suffocating and bleeding out. Without quick treatment, it would be anyone's guess which claimed his life first, but there wasn't long to act._

 _Maze had started trying to give rescue breathing but it was failing. He now had Graves' blood smeared across his mouth and cheek, making him look like some sort of horror-holo monster._

 _E'li practically threw himself to his knees beside them, closing his own hands loosely over Graves' neck. Whatever had occurred, it had left the alpha with a gaping double slice across his throat. He could see the bubbles in the blood and knew that the wound must have damaged the trachea as well as severing vital blood vessels._

 _He gathered the Force within his own body and channelled all his effort in to nipping off the severed blood supplies, but he was no healer; he couldn't do much more than that. He couldn't breathe for him, or influence the supply of oxygen around his body._

 _Maze still hadn't spoken yet, but he was one step ahead of E'li. He gathered his brother up from the ground with considerable effort, managing to position him such that E'li could maintain contact._

 _"Bar, quickly!"_

 _Together they rushed back, parting the gawping pedestrians with ease. Misfit had cleared a table and had a small emergency medkit spread out in preparation._

 _He was fighting an internal battle. Part of him wanted to cry and grasp his partner, but his logical side knew that wouldn't help. An even smaller part of his mind was battling with his own stomach. He'd never been bothered by blood before, but his fruity drinks had begun to churn in his gut and he had his teeth clamped firmly together. If he got as far as retching he knew he'd lose the battle._

 _"Knife!"_

 _Maze looked up, staring towards the bar staff, knowing that they must have some sort of blade._

 _They all stared blankly back at him until Nora rushed across and reached over the counter past one of the barmen's arms, coming up with a small knife they used to cut fruits. She was as white as Misfit felt, but she approached with haste and handed it over, then took one of Graves' grasping hands in her own, squeezing for all she was worth. His eyes were wide with fear, and everyone understood that fear of being unable to get air. It needed no translating and she did what little she could to comfort him._

 _Maze took the knife and – with a boldness that made some of the remaining audience turn away in shock – confidently sliced in to his vod's neck, below the adams apple and existing damage. He carefully cut through to the trachea, opening a hole that finally allowed Graves to draw air in to his lungs with a desperate heave of his chest._

#

Graves bolted upright, wrenching himself free from the confines of the blankets and grasping at his neck, searching for the gaping wounds that threatened to suffocate him. Gradually the room came in to focus and he realise that this wasn't a Coruscant bar…it was their own bunk, on their own ship…he could feel Misfit's hands cautiously coming to rest on his own arms.

He took a shuddering breath, reminding himself that he could breathe, then turned sharply to puke over the edge of the bunk confines, grasping the durasteel tightly as he retched and coughed. Thank the manda for wall to wall durasteel, because this was becoming a consistent follow up to his nightmares and no matter how often it happened, he still couldn't get control of the frozen fear quick enough to get out of bed, never mind anywhere near the 'fresher…

Misfit patted his brother's back, soothing him carefully. It was always dangerous being around a vod as they woke from a nightmare and were still trying to get themselves back in control; it was a delicate balance between providing comfort and avoiding making them lash out. It didn't matter how close you were, it was still possible, and he had been knocked out as a teen when he made the mistake of trying to wake another Alpha from a nightmare. Graves may never have quite done that to him, but there had been a few startled punches throughout the years.

"Udessi, cyar'vod. It's okay." He leant on closer now that the flailing had come to a halt and planted several firm kisses against the Captain's shoulder, nudging aside the loose collar of his tunic. "It was only a nightmare. You're safe, vod'ika. You're safe."

* * *

 _ **AN: Thanks to everyone still reading - sorry about the lengthy time between chapters. I'm about to move house and start a new job, so updates may stall for a bit. I'll do my best to keep them flowing. As always, comments are most welcome - if only to let me know whether anyone's reading Kappa's story! ~ Atin**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The sound of a vod waking from a nightmare woke Haar quicker than any alarm ever would. He was curled up tight in the second bunk on the compact ship so he was mere feet away from the other pair of vode.

When he'd seen how cramped the space was, he'd been sure that he'd be bedding down in the cockpit, but the pair shared a single bunk. This wasn't entirely abnormal – many vode were happy to climb in together, either for comfort, affection, or purely for shared warmth – but it was clearly far more than that with this pair.

The Captain had woken in cries of terror, clawing and clutching at his throat as if unable to breathe. Haar took a few seconds to wake and assess, and by the time he'd worked out just what was happening, the Alpha was leaning over the edge of his bunk to vomit.

 _Ah well, that didn't bother Haar. A few rounds of the Sickener soon put to bed any discomfort with unplanned bodily ejections._

He sat up and considered his options.

The pair seemed oblivious to him; the Captain was still struggling to bring himself back to the here and now, and the Lieutenant, Misfit, was fussing over him like a mother nuna in a manner which spoke of true bond and a deep understanding. He was handling Graves with all the love and understanding for a brother who was in the grips of the aftermath of a PTSD nightmare. There wasn't anything Haar could do to help in that way, but he _could_ clean up the mess on the floor and maybe fetch some water.

There was no shame in nightmares. He couldn't think of a single brother who didn't have nightmares about something, and most likely at very regular intervals. Haar himself had almost weekly nightmares about drowning. It always happened the day after they returned from a mission. He slept like the dead on the first night back because they were always exhausted, but by the next night he was refreshed and that was when the nightmares came.

 _That mean that the nightmares would come tomorrow…thankfully when he would be back around his own squad. He hated others witnessing his 'moments', so it was good that these vode wouldn't have to witness that. They'd already punished him by separating him from his squad for the duration of the trip…the last thing he wanted was for them to see him in those unguarded moments._

And for that reason, he tried to give these brothers are much privacy as was possible within these confined quarters. It wasn't much, but the thought was there.

He fetched water and disposable cloths to clean up the floor. It gave him something to do since he wasn't going to be getting any more sleep until everything had settled down again.

* * *

The trio sat around the cramped table in the galley sipping freshly brewed caf. It was early yet, but Graves was refusing to go back to sleep so it was 'one-up-all-up' mentality. The Captain still looked decidedly green around the gills, and while Haar hadn't asked what the nightmare was about, he could tell it was a fresh, emotive memory…for both Alphas. Misfit may not look as bad as his brother did, but he certainly had a haunted look to his face as they sat in silence.

Their minds where elsewhere. It was a very vivid change from the loud, bold side of them he'd first seen. They didn't seem quite as intimidating now…they looked like any other brother who was scared.

 _Poor chakaar._

It gave him a chance to get a proper look at the pair without being noticed. He'd been taken aback a bit by the sheer volume of tattoos on the Captain's body. The one on his face was shocking enough on its own, but that was certainly not the extent of his body art! He also had many trailing down his arms, across his chest, and one particularly bold geometric pattern that curved around his hip. Haar allowed himself an inward smile as he noted the streak of fading red dye in the Captain's hair; another subtle mark of his rank. Neither brother wore the standard white Alpha kit with its insignia, instead they had a grey cammo pattern which was undoubtedly better for camouflage, but it meant that their red and blue rank marks were less obvious. They had strips of colour on one shoulder plate, which would be enough for any vode to note rank, but maybe not so easy for non-clones. Clearly the red streak had been dyed in to his hair a while ago and was near faded – maybe from when they graduated. Now wasn't the time to ask…and he certainly wasn't going to say anything about how untidy it looked. All of his squad had pretty standard short hairstyles, but creepy-kute had both sides buzzed to a short stubble and the top section left to grow long. It had been in a tidy twisted bun before, but tossing and turning in bed had made it stick out of the twist in all directions, and a section from the front had come loose and was brushing his bare shoulder.

The scars on his throat were extremely fresh; the flesh still raised despite being healed over. With time, they would recede more, but right now they were disturbingly obvious, and it was clear that they were causing some degree of trauma for the otherwise terrifying vod.

His brother was more conventional in his appearance but Haar knew better than to let that lull him in to a false sense of security. Misfit had a vibrant energy which set Haar on edge a little because it was hard to decide what to expect of him. Right now he was quiet, and that was worrying.

It all left Haar feeling like he didn't really have anything to do, or somewhere to be. He was clearly unnecessary here because he couldn't offer any emotional assistance, but he didn't have a space of his own on this strange ship, so where else could he go.

In the end, he settled for gulping down the last of his caf then taking himself to sit in the pilots chair to stare at the blue streaks of hyperspace. The navicomputer screen told him they still had just short of eight hours to go until they reached Coruscant. That was a long time to be sitting here twiddling his thumbs, trying to keep away from the Alphas.

He'd barely been there ten minutes when the pair came to join him, making him curse inwardly. So much for getting away from them…the followed him around like a bad smell.

Graves sank down in to the co-pilot's chair while his brother perched on the arm, making it creak ominously. When Haar made to offer him the pilots chair he was waved back down.

"You're edgy, for a commando." Misfit broke the silence with a well-placed observation. "Usually commandos are all mouth and trousers, but you and your sergeant…" He whistled between his teeth. "You were fighting like caged nexu."

Haar didn't bother to acknowledge that summary…no matter how accurate it may be. Instead he remained silent, staring out the viewport as if he were still alone.

"A bit cruel – picking on a vod with a concussion…no?" This time there was bite to the Lieutenant's words. "Not very brotherly."

Honestly, Haar had fully intended to let any insult wash over him, but it seemed that his unfamiliar blast of temper was still lurking too close to the surface and he turned on the pair before his mind had the chance to catch up and realise just how poorly planned that move was!

His fist made contact with Misfit's cheek, but it was only a glancing blow and the Alpha used the momentum of that swing to pull Haar out of his chair and pin him to the deck in a crippling and painful grip. He would have yelped if he'd had the breath to do so, but the force of the collision had knocked the air from his body and his ribs screamed with the second trauma in such a short period of time. The barely controlled descent down the cliff face had left him with bruises and aches, and the weight of an Alpha vod on top of him just emphasised where every sore bit was.

He tried to buck him off – to give himself room to breathe – but all his squirming did was earn him greater pressure on his back and a slap across the back of the head with a balled fist. He snarled and cursed every word under the sun but nothing was going to get him out of this until his assailant chose to let go.

"Let him go, vod'ika." It was the Captain who stepped in to break it up, although it took a moment for Misfit to relinquish his grip and step back, allowing Haar to stumble to his feet and back away.

There was a tiny part of his brain that was still ready to fight, but there were two of them and only one of him. He wasn't stupid enough to think that he'd get away so lightly a second time around…that had been a warning grip and nothing more. If Misfit had wanted to break his arm he would have.

The wisest move seemed to be keeping as much distance between them as possible for the remaining time until they reached Coruscant. To his shame, that meant locking himself in the tiny 'fresher until he heard them go back to bed. They knocked on the door a few times…probably making sure he hadn't collapsed or something when they would be liable…but his cursing soon let them know that he was alive and kicking.

When he heard the snoring, he let himself out and went back to sit in the cockpit, staring at the streaks of blue.

How easy it would be to bail out…to run. Despite its diminutive size, the ship still had an escape pod. He could set the navicomputer to drop out of hyperspace for long enough to release the escape pod with him inside…by the time they realised he was gone the ship would be back on hyperdrive and he'd have a fighting chance of getting away before they could track him down.

… _that was desertion talk…_

If he was caught after deserting there would be no question over the punishment. He'd be executed. And he had no idea how to live in the Galaxy outside of the clone army. He'd never been without vode around him…he had no money…no clothes but those on his back…

He spent the entire journey back thinking about the predicament he had found himself in. He was a lone man who was completely incapable of working alone. No matter how he felt about his squad, he still needed them. He missed Mire, and Faro, despite the fact he'd only been parted from them for a short period of time. He wanted to say that he'd happily never set eyes on Varik again, but that was a lie. His sergeant may be a bully, but all Haar found himself wanting – when the initial temper faded – was a little praise. A 'thank you'…or a 'well done'. He just wanted to do something right.

 _He had never felt so alone._

At least when he was around the squad he knew where he stood, even if it meant being shouted at for something. But here…he didn't have his squad, and he had two strange vode who he couldn't decide if he wanted to like or be terrified of. There wasn't a cruel undercurrent to them like there was in Varik, but they also didn't seem to like him much.

As the ship reached the end of its hyperspace jump and bleeped its warning, the Alphas came up and took his place at the helm, allowing him to slip away to the galley. He was exhausted and the closer they got to Coruscant, the more his stomach churned. The General had been furious with them for fighting. He'd not seen the young twi'lek look so angry before and now he had to face the fact that he was going to be called in front of him to answer for his disobedience.

The clock ticked down and the sound of the comm chatter between the Alphas and various traffic control staff filled his head. He could hear Faro's voice on the comm – clearly the two ships where in contact as well, organising where to land together.

He stomach flipped and he was glad he hadn't eaten anything.

He was going to be punished, and it was too late to run now. They were landing near the medical facilities.

 _What if Varik's condition had got worse?_

 _Maybe the fight had injured him further…what if the concussion had been worse than they thought…?_

He was on his feet and ready be the ramp as the ship came in to land gentle on the duracrete. As the ramp lowered, the warm, climate-controlled Coruscant air wafted up around him and the midday sun warmed the pavement.

This should be lovely; a run ashore, a few days off, but no. Haar was walking to his doom.

To face his squad.

His General.

And worst of all…his Sergeant.

* * *

 ** _AN: Running without internet just now since I've just moved house...but the upside is that I have nothing much to do but write! Start my new job on monday! - Atin_**


	14. Chapter 14

Despite all of his fears, Haar re-joined his squad upon landing to find that Varik was feeling much better. His headache had cleared up and the potential fear of concussion seemed misplaced now.

"Although you can never be too careful." Was Faro's wise reply, as they made their way back from the medbay. "It could have been nasty. Without full kit, you've only got two minutes to get out or get rescued before you're at serious risk of drowning. It doesn't matter how strong a swimmer you are; your body just shuts down and you sink." He said it so matter-of-factly that it was clear this was another memory dredged up from training.

Haar shuddered at the thought but didn't open his mouth. He'd tried talk to his sergeant; show that he cared about his wellbeing, Varik had blanked him. When he persevered, he'd snarled.

So Haar was back trailing along behind them as they headed back to their assigned room. According to Mire, they were going out to the bar again, and nobody could be bothered to argue that with him. They might as well do something with their time on Coruscant and the Alphas had already expressed desire to go out.

Haar didn't really care.

* * *

Meanwhile Graves and Misfit had met with E'li and found that they had made a dreadful mistake in being so short with Haar.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Graves rubbed a hand over his face and paced the room before flopping down on to a chair beside Misfit.

E'li perched on his desk, one lek curled in anxious energy. "I wasn't thinking. I just assumed you'd understand…I forget that normal people don't get feelings through the Force." He ducked his head and sighed, knowing that it was too late to undo the mistake.

"We should go and speak to him…" Misfit looked across to his partner for agreement but E'li shook his head firmly.

"Not right now. Let the squad sort themselves out just now…they need time together." The twi'lek slipped off the desk and crossed the floor to stand by the Alphas. He wasn't sure how well the squad would do mending their own issues, but they're were too fractured to tolerate others poking their noses in and trying to fix it for them. They were emotionally children in bodies of adults with the responsibilities of elite soldiers.

It wasn't even remotely fair.

* * *

Varik sulked at the corner of the bar watching his squad fraternizing with the Alphas. Faro had been caught unawares by Misfit's blue drinks. There seemed to be an unwritten rule about alcohol, saying that the brighter it was the more potent the content. Their tech expert was slumped in the corner of the booth with his drink at a jaunty angle.

Opposite him sat the Alphas. Mire was further along the bar, chatting animatedly with the bar girl and paying no heed to the rest of the squad. He didn't even appear to be drinking; he seemed more interested in the girl.

Haar wandered back from the 'fresher and made the mistake of passing too close to the very bad tempered sergeant. Varik caught his arm as he passed and Haar automatically reacted with a blow that would have knocked Varik back against the bar but a few pints of ale had numbed his reaction – and shortened his temper – and his fist hit the bar instead. He'd been aiming for his sergeant's gett'se because he knew that would make him let go rapidly…and partly out of bad tempered malice.

"Stand down!" Varik snarled, managing to keep his voice low enough not to travel over the music. "Don't you fekkin' dare!"

Haar reacted on deeply ingrained instinct at the order, then the rest of his mind caught up and reacted with instant fury. "What's your problem, mir'shebs?" His tone was low but that didn't stop a few nearby civvies from turning to glance at them. When Varik didn't reply, Haar continued in mando'a to avoid people listening in. "I was worried about you and you've done nothing but snub me at every opportunity. You only speak to me when you want me to do something and even that's few and far between."

"Maybe that wouldn't be the case if you were actually capable of pulling your own weight." Varik's growl was also in mando'a. "You stumble along in our dust…I don't even know why you're a commando. You'd be better placed in a squad of meat cans, and even then, without us looking out for you, you'd be dead in one mission." His face was inches aware from Haar's and his grip on the sniper's arm was bruising. "You're dead weight." His sneer emphasised the second term.

Haar pulled away and started walking towards the exit, knowing that Varik was tailing after him; weaving between dancers in the most direct route towards the door. The squad didn't seem to have noticed what was going on – at least, nobody followed them.

This time there was nobody to break up the fight.

Haar had intended to walk away and avoid confrontation, because he knew he was angry and he didn't want to end up making things worse than they already were, but Varik wasn't going to let him leave without making his point.

A few interested civvies watched on, but none of them were going to step in between two burly clones when they were going at each other like this. Without any referee they continued to roll, trying to pin and subdue the other but they were evenly matched. Usually Haar backed down purely to avoid confrontation with Varik, but now he was furious.

When they finally broke away and stumbled to their feet, Varik was bleeding from his lip and Haar was blinking away a teeth rattling blow to the cheek.

Neither advanced; each waiting for the other to react.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Haar turned on his heel, marching in to the darkness.

Varik's jeers echoed in to the night air behind him, but he didn't come after him.

The civilian audience dispersed slowly, seeming disappointed that the show had ended so abruptly.

 _Nobody was fool enough to get involved._

* * *

They found Haar alone outside the barracks building. He wasn't asleep, but he seemed to have no intention of going inside and was sat in the shadows with his head forward.

Graves approached carefully, dodging the sudden punch that he knew to expect. He caught the commando's arm in a relatively gentle grip and waited for him to look up and realise that it wasn't Varik.

Haar sagged back against the wall, his eyes cast up questioningly.

"Come inside, vod'ika." Misfit held a hand out with the palm upturned, his other hand on Graves' arm.

The Captain released Haar's arm. "E'li spoke to us." Haar was still looking at him questioningly but he seemed to be relaxing a fraction; as if seeing some light at the end of the tunnel…some moment of peace and safety where he didn't have to fight.

 _Someone was being nice to him._

He pushed himself up in one fluid movement. His buzz of alcohol had faded but it was still enough to make him more open. Part of him wanted to thump the Alphas, but the other half appreciated that they had no idea what he'd gone through before they found him scrapping with his injured sergeant. He couldn't really blame them for something they didn't know.

"I don't want to go back to the barracks." He was adamant about that. "I don't want to deal with any of them until they sober up."

There was a fraction of a second's worth of silence then Graves shrugged a shoulder. "You can come with us?"

Misfit perked up at that idea and rubbed a hand down the sniper's arm. "Yeah, we're in completely different wing of the barracks. And there's always room for one more."

Haar stood, staring towards the commando barracks, imagining what it would be like to go to bed and wait for the squad to come rolling in from the bar. Faro was trashed and wouldn't be any help, Mire had looked as if he were more interested in staying with that girl at the bar, and Varik…

Varik was channelling a resentment that Haar simply couldn't face right now. He knew the sergeant had been scared. He understood fear. So why did Varik take it all out on him.

 _Why couldn't they both just back up and give each other the space to deal with these issues?_

But that was never going to happen.

He turned to the Alphas, who were watching him quizzically.

"I'd appreciate that. More than words can say."

* * *

 _Haar's assumptions where correct, although he never witnessed it first-hand._

 _Varik and Faro stumbled back to the barracks in the early hours, both drunk and completely without Mire. It didn't truly dawn on them until the morning when they realised that the ordnance expert's bunk was unslept in._

 _As was Haar's._

 _Mire spent a glorious and education night in the company of Nora, learning an entirely new set of skills and completely unaware of what was going on back home._

* * *

 ** _AN: Thank you for the patience...especially the guest review...sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter done but it just wasn't cooperating. Next ones will come quicker as they are near written!_**


	15. Chapter 15

E'li called the team to his office the next morning, knowing that he needed to force them back together. Missions permitting, they'd get a few days off before they were shipped out again, but he used the excuse of a mission debrief to bring them together.

Faro and Varik were the first to arrive, although Faro looked decided green around the gills and settled himself in to chair as if he were made of glass and would shatter if he moved too rapidly. He hadn't put his armour on, but he had made the effort to smooth out his rumpled fatigues as much as possible.

Varik stood at ease despite E'li offering him a seat. He was tense and there was a storm brewing in his mind. It didn't take much for E'li to taste the bitterness swirling there.

Haar wandered in with the Alpha Captain a few minutes after his squad brothers had arrived. Misfit was fortunate enough not to be called to the meeting, so he was sleeping off his hangover in peace. As Graves took his position by E'li's shoulder, Haar was forced to take a seat with his squad on the other side of E'li's desk. The Alpha wasn't here for the de-brief; he was here because he was assigned to E'li unless the twi'lek chose to send him away on missions.

Generally, E'li made better use of the Alphas by sending them out as a pair. They worked well together and it seemed like such a waste to keep Graves on Coruscant. He saw Captain Maze most days and while he was as polite as polite could be, he always looked bored. From what E'li had learned about the Alpha's upbringing, they seemed to have been raised to be complete killing machines, so why the GAR chose to tie so many Alphas to desk duty was completely beyond his comprehension. Graves was supposed to be assigned to him 24/7 on Coruscant, or wherever he happened to go, and Misfit was 'at his disposal' – a term which he loathed. Instead, he worked his missions so that the pair of Alphas could work together most of the time. He hated to split them up, especially considering that he knew he could be sending them to their death with every passing mission. He saw how Graves fretting when he was forced to stay back on Coruscant with E'li while Misfit was away. They weren't stupid; they knew that every goodbye might be their last, and they worked so well when let loose to do their thing. It was ridiculous to think that E'li was meant to be in charge of them. He'd reached a good understanding where he gave Graves the space to make the decisions so that the commando squads under E'li's control were put to their best use.

So far it seemed to be working. Losses were relatively low, and E'li was finding his feet and gaining confidence.

Varik watched the Alpha, eyeing the dark grey cammo pattern on his armour – not what he expected on an Alpha – and the small red stripes which were all that would mark him as a Captain. There was nothing blatant…even another clone could overlook those and assume them to be decorative, and Varik wasn't entirely sure that that wasn't the point. Graves seemed happy to let his superior rank lie dormant, although he did return the interrogating stare with a sneered smirk which seemed to be meant to imply that he'd read Varik in that look and wasn't all that keen on what he saw.

Varik resisted the urge to snarl, but he moved his gaze away from the Alpha and turned his attention towards Haar, who had quietly slipped in to a chair on the other side of Faro. It was a deliberate move to put space between them and Varik was about to casually move across the room under the guise of looking out the window when the door hissed open again and Mire came rushing in puffing and panting.

Everyone's attention snapped towards him – each ready to question his whereabouts in the preceding eight hours.

"You never came home last night." Faro was first to speak. "We were worried about you, vod'ika."

Varik raised an eyebrow. "You weren't worried…you were comatose!" There wasn't anger in his voice; in fact, there was a mild humour since he'd been the one to get Faro in to his bed, and to get him up, showered and breakfasted so that he looked semi-human at this point. He looked up at Mire, who shifted under the spotlight of their unwavering attention. "You're okay though?"

Mire looked decidedly uncomfortable, looking to E'li for assistance, but the twi'lek was watching him with as much curiosity as the clones. "I…ehm." He swallowed and tried to wish away the furious blush that was making his ears burn. "I went with Nora; the girl in the bar that I met before." He looked to E'li and Graves, seeing a means of turning the attention away from himself. "She asked after you, Captain. I told her you were well."

Graves shuddered and touched his own throat subconsciously, covering the scars. He never met the bar girl, and she'd seen him at his most vulnerable. But she had helped Misfit, and for that, he owed her more than he could ever give. He felt E'li touch his back discreetly and a wave of warm comfort brushed across his body, giving him the strength to relax and drop his hand back to his side. Misfit already had ideas for covering the scars, and Graves looked forward to seeing the results. His cyar'ika hadn't let him down yet.

"So, what was it like, M'ika?" Faro cocked his head and quizzed his red cheeked brother.

Mire rubbed a hand over his face and settled in to one of the free chairs, giving up all hope of being rescued from the embarrassment. To be fair, if he were in their position, he'd be asking questions too. He couldn't be seen to be hoarding valuable intel.

"I didn't have fekkin' clue what to do." He started, giving a shy grin. "Believe me, what you see in maintenance material is not an accurate depiction of the real thing. It's a lot sweatier, and awkward, and…" He looked to Graves for assistance, but the Alpha snorted and raised his hands in apology.

"Sorry, Mire. I think my collective experiences are rather different to what you got. Misfit has extra bits that Nora doesn't."

Varik winced unintentionally at the image of the two clones together, but he was wise enough not to say anything. His attention was also on Mire. Every clone wanted to know all details, and Mire was holding back.

There was a few moments silence, until Mire raised his eyebrows helplessly. "You don't want a blow by blow account, do you?"

Graves snorted, startling them all. "We want that and then everything else that happened, vod'ika!"

Mire looked utterly confused until he mentally repeated the exchange and turned an entirely new shade of red. "I didn't mean that…although she did…I mean…" He stopped and took a breath to regain his composure. "Fine…don't ever say I'm not good to you all!"

* * *

The steam curled tendrils around the room as E'li stepped out the shower in to the comparative cool of his small 'fresher. It was late – well in to the early hours of the new day – but they'd been tied up with work for so long and he'd finally dismissed Graves at midnight before heading to bed himself not long after. It was one of those days where they really could have done with having Misfit as well, but the vod was in the medbay since what had seemed like a hangover had turned out to be a nasty dose of a stomach virus that was doing the rounds of the barracks. He'd been isolated along with the other clones to contract the harmless but unpleasant virus. This meant that Graves was at a loose end and wasn't allowed to visit his brother no matter how much he growled. The medics were used to clones who desperately wanted to sit with their squad-mates, but if they bent the rule for one then that set a precedent. So in another way, the workload had been a mercy and kept the Alpha from creating too much trouble in the interim!

E'li stepped in front of the mirror and saw the dark patches under his eyes. He looked like someone who'd pulled an eighteen-hour shift…which was true, and the darkness of his facial tattoos only served to emphasise those lines of exhaustion. It'd all gone to haran only hours after they'd dismissed Kappa Squad and settled down for a normal, quiet day. Then another squad had called in with a drastic change of conditions to their mission, leaving E'li and Graves working minute by minute to get them out safely. Then there'd been so much work to do to tidy up the changes and make good the records. So much paper work.

 _His comfortable bunk was looking very welcoming right about now._

With that in mind he scrubbed the towel over his skin and wandered out in to his room, pulling on the shorts that he slept in, before hanging his towel to dry and slipping in under the cool sheet. He fixed his alarm so that he would at least get a solid chunk of sleep before it went off, since he'd told Graves not to bother getting up for their usual 7am meeting time. No point in depriving themselves of sleep; that wouldn't benefit the work at all.

He lay in the dark, trying to doze off but finding his head buzzing with the imprint of his Captain's thoughts. They'd spent so many hours together today, and it was always hard for E'li to completely block out his natural affinity with the touch to other's minds. It was one of his most powerful force talents, although he did his best not to but that meant constantly trying to block things out. He was getting better now, but he still couldn't help it when he was so close to an individual for so long – it felt like a physical connection that was hard to break, especially when he was relaxed and trying to sleep. It took effort to shut down the threads reaching out towards Graves.

It meant that he knew where the Alpha was; which was thankfully his own bunkroom, and he knew what he was doing. That was what was causing him his problems. Along with the linger thoughts dragging on from Mire's reappearance and confession that morning.

 _The squad had been full of questions and interest, but E'li had been careful to keep his own naivety quiet, all while listening intently to the lessons-learnt. It had been almost comical in the way that the squad shared what should be very private information so freely – since as far as they were concerned, it was potentially useful learning for all of them, so Mire should share for the greater good!_

Graves was doing one of the things that Graves seemed to enjoy best – although he'd probably enjoy it more if Misfit were there with him. And E'li was being bombarded by second-hand arousal which he had no idea what to do with.

He flipped the soft overhead lamp on and pushed back the sheet, briefly rubbing a hand over himself to confirm the throb he was feeling. He was rock hard. He nudged the waistband down enough to free himself and cautiously wrapped his fist around it and stroked once or twice.

His Master had made her opinions known on the topic of 'male sexual depravity' the first time teenage E'linvhara took himself in hand in an initial foray of exploration. She'd invaded his mind – she'd known what he was doing – and she'd done what E'li thought of as the mental equivalent of a severe lashing, which left him with an almighty headache, and a horrible feeling of invasion. At the time, he'd been suitably chastised and didn't touch it again…in fact, he'd spent a few years of his teenage years terrified that she'd even know when he got an erection. He never touched them…he wished them away with thoughts of anything horrific, but the fear that she would know and punish him for this 'deviance' plagued him until he grew out of those awkward years.

She'd always been in his mind. She would punish him for wet dreams, even though he had no control over that. His only experiences of orgasm had been in his dreams, and every single one was followed up by a punishment.

She told him he was heading for the Dark Side, and he'd been so indoctrinated that he'd believed it.

Now he was beginning to see what she had done to him. It _had_ been indoctrination. It certainly wasn't education. She hadn't taught him how to use his most prolific force talent…which was why he ended up in this situation of feeling like he was invading the minds of those he cared about. He was closely bonded to the likes of Graves because of the friendship and trust between them, but he still felt like he was doing something terrible.

 _She couldn't punish him now._

He was his own man, in charge of his own affairs. He didn't even have to see her unless he was really unfortunate and bumped in to her. He made every effort to refuse everything that might put him in her proximity.

So if she got a sample of this, then it wasn't really his problem anymore…was it?

He gave a few more experimental strokes, feeling the warmth spreading. His lekku curled at the ends where they were draped on his bare chest, in a subconscious gesture of pleasure. He put his other hand up to trace the circles of decorative scarring on the muscular appendages.

So many people seemed to think that they were just floppy things hanging from a twi'leks head – some got as far as learning that they contained part of the brain – but few seemed to appreciate that a lek was basically solid muscle, with a generous distribution of nerve endings. They were so very sensitive, which is why it was very much a faux pas to touch a twi'lek's lekku, unless in a very suggestive situation…or if you were trying to take them down quickly, in which case, the lekku were unfortunately a prime target as the pain of a forceful grab could be at least temporarily incapacitating.

The twirled patterns felt wonderful, forcing his mind to split between the subtle pleasure of the lek play and the more direct stimulation from his fist, which had built up a better rhythm. He was a quick learner, and the sparks in the back of his mind from Graves own activity where riding roughshod over any attempt at control. He could only comfort himself with the knowledge that the Alpha would probably deem this another mark in his own sexual experiences – even if he had no input himself – rather than seeing it as any sort of intrusion. He could picture the cheeky smile that would grace the handsome Alpha's features. Now, E'li may not have any hankering after the male of any species, but he could still appreciate a handsome specimen. Even with that in mind, he might still have a hard time looking Graves in the eye in the morning…well, in the later morning…

He huffed out a breath; realising that he'd been holding it without even realising. The lek play was almost as good as the main event.

He pushed any brief flash of shame aside, and ran his tongue almost shyly up his own right lek. The pleasure made him tremble and he knew that this was going to be a short experience. He had no stamina developed and it was an entire-body pleasure that hammered over him in waves.

Pushing any feelings of shame aside, he took the tip of the lek in to his mouth.

He had to clench his jaw to stop himself biting down on his own sensitive skin when a firework of colour in the back of his mind signalled a wave of second-hand ecstasy and he just knew that at that moment, the Alpha Captain had climaxed.

He breathed hard through his nose and let the wet lek drop from his mouth when his own head tipped back and his back arched.

He kept squirming against the mattress, rocking his hips as he rode through the pleasure, chasing the final tendrils as the disappeared, leaving him feeling satisfied and suddenly sleepy. It took a few moments before he opened his eyes and looked down at the wet mess on his own stomach.

The splashes of pearly white liquid stood out strongly against the smooth lilac skin below his naval. It was almost pretty, in a strange way. He'd managed – against all odds – to keep his hand relatively clean, but he could resist dabbing a finger in to the pearls. He even brought the finger up to his mouth but screwed his face up at the taste. It was strong, and salty, and had a lingering aftertaste that was entirely unpleasant.

Despite that, he couldn't help but consider the whole experience to be positive.

His eyelids felt leaden but he forced himself to get up and clean himself up before tumbling back under the sheet. Getting up was enough to break the spell and the realisation of what he had done in prying in to the private moments of another individual hit him like a physical blow. He might as well be doing what his own Master had done to him. It was disrespectful to allow his mind to drift in to private matters, no matter how pleasant they may have been to share in from a distance. He lay in the dark, fighting with these thoughts until exhaustion pulled him in to sleep. The only thing that he could grasp for was the fact that neither Graves nor Misfit were private about these things, and he doubted that either of them would mind about his moment of weakness. It still didn't make it right.

He slept right through till 7am, at which point he was woken by a call from Graves to inform him that the Alpha was now in the medbay as a patient as well. Ordinarily, ending up in the medbay would be deemed an unpleasant event but there was a slight upbeat tone to the Captain's voice.

It seemed that projectile vomiting was a small price to pay, in an Alpha's opinion, in order for him to be back by his cyar'ika's side.

It was probably inevitable, E'li mused, that they both end up with the virus. They shared everything, after all! It just meant that he would be on his own for a few days.

And he had to cross his fingers and hope that he hadn't been infected at any stage along the way…because despite feeling that he owed Graves some sort of apology, or at least thanks, for his own sexual awakening; he'd really rather not have to thank him for a dose of misery as well. It would take the shine off of the whole experience a little!


	16. Chapter 16

_**20 BBY**_

"C'mon, pick it up."

Varik was leading the squad at a rapid pace; all fighting to get up the steep slithery slope between the trees. Their armour was slick with mud and they were nursing along both Faro and Haar who had injured themselves in the traverse. The planet seemed to be eternally swathed in a twilight darkness, which made it easier to keep a low profile but it was also a disadvantage for them in return.

Faro had a suspected broken arm splinted with a solid setting bandage and strapped against his chest. He could still run fast enough, suitably motivated by the fear of potentially being pursued.

The ground surface undulated and they had to duck under thick, overhanging tree branches and skirt around – or leap over – deep, gaping chasms that opened up out of nowhere.

It was unforgiving and Haar's aching, twisted knee wasn't making life easy for them, and Faro was struggling to scramble when it required both arms.

Varik skidded to a halt, stopping just short of another gaping chasm that stretched off to either side as if the ground had ripped itself apart. He cursed loudly and started to lead them along the edge, searching for the narrowest point he could find. What they really could have done with was some jetpacks…but it would have been very subtle igniting fuel in this dark environment. They'd have stood out like sore thumb.

When he found a suitable spot he leapt, landing on the opposite slope face with a grunt. Even the ever-ready sergeant was beginning to tire…and his temper was getting frayed. They were running to a tight schedule; the larty was collecting them at a specific spot and they were running out of time to get there. The gunship couldn't hang around for them so time was getting critical.

He steadied himself against the claggy, muddy slop; ready to catch Faro when he leapt across and prevent him further injuring his arm.

Faro grumbled under his breath, getting as close to the edge as he dared in order to shorten the distance. He may not be have Varik's churning fear of heights, but he wasn't all that enthusiastic to have to keep jumping over all these terrifying hole in order to get to where they wanted to go. You didn't need a phobia to find it scary. He was immensely glad of Varik's waiting arms grabbing him and pulling him up and away from the edge when he made his leap of faith.

Mire waited, shifting so that Haar could line up next. The sniper had his rifle strapped across his back and his gauntlet vibroblade ejected. He was using it to dig in whenever he leapt; as an added grip in the soft soil.

He was struggling to leap far enough because his knee kept threatening to give out on him and he couldn't put enough force behind the spring to make him confident. He was relying on the hands stabilising him on the other side.

Varik's patience wasn't improving and he growled angrily, waving his hand irritably. "Get your shebs over here now! Stop stalling…we're late and if you make us miss that transport I will wring your scrawny neck! We have a job to do."

He was scared…and cold…and he wanted to get back to that transport.

Haar shuffled anxiously, trying to get his knee to hold so that he could push off hard. He felt Mire plant a hand against his back to give him a helping shove.

So he took a deep breath, counted to three in his head then leap with all his strength, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg.

He made the distance – just – but Varik barely caught him, missing the grip he had aimed for on the gauntlet and instead grasping for his brother's hand desperately. Haar stabbed his hand down towards the mud at the same time in a helpless attempt to grip, meaning that he stabbed his blade in to Varik's hand with force.

Varik yelped, but gripped, despite the blade digging in to his palm. He tried to hold on but the vibroblade ripped through the material of his glove and sliced through the flesh of his palm making him howl and curse.

Faro yelled, frantically grasping at air.

Mire cried out a curse but could do nothing from his side.

 _But none of them could do anything now to stop their brother from falling._

Haar slipped from the slope, losing his battle with gravity and sliding backwards over the lip of the gaping chasm.

They heard his cry. And they heard it cut off as the wind was knocked from his body with the force of his impact with whatever ledge he had hit. He gasped and coughed, struggling to get air in to his lungs again

Varik had staggered to his feet, peering carefully over the edge, searching desperately for sight of their brother. He couldn't see him on the normal visor filters, or with the night vision in place. He could pick him out by finding his body temperature on the visor filters but that couldn't tell him how deep he had fallen or what else was down there.

"Haar?"

They all listened, hearing their brother breathing heavily but hoping to get a reply as well.

Mire stepped closer to the edge. "Vod'ika? Haar? Can you hear us?" He stood still for a moment until he heard the breathless reply. That was enough to spur him in to action. He pulled his own rappel line from his belt, preparing to try to find a means of fixing it in place. "I'm coming, vod'ika…hold on."

Varik snapped his head up. "No!"

They both turned to stare at him.

He didn't need to see their faces to know that they were glaring at him. "No. We have to get to the gunship. This mission was highly time sensitive." He glanced back towards the dark chasm, trying to ignore the whimpered pleading from their sniper vod. It didn't matter…they had an RV point to reach in fourteen minutes and they were losing the battle with the clock. "No, if we don't get moving then we risk everyone. This is what we are trained for…we were taught how to do this…"

He sounded like he was convincing himself.

 _Maybe he was._

"Please…please…vode, don't leave me down here…" Haar's voice cracked with emotion – and pain – and was underpinned with plain terror. He'd been nearly left behind before…when they were cadets. The panic was clear in his voice. "Gedet'ye, ner vode…"

Varik screwed his eyes shut, feeling the time ticking down and the fear in his brother's voice. There was only one way to do this.

He swallowed hard and lifted his head.

"We're moving off, come on." He grabbed Mire, who had leapt across to their side, and shoved him on towards the RV. He did the same to Faro, although he was mindful of his sore arm. "We come back for him with the gunship. They can drop a rappel line and we can extract him that way. It's the best option. Move out!"

He strode away from the chasm, shoving both squad mates ahead of them, closing his ears to both their shouts and curses, and against the terrified cries of the brother he was leaving behind.

It was his job to make these decisions. He had to get it right.

They'd come back for Haar.

They could complete the mission and rescue their brother.

Easy…

* * *

There was complete silence in the gunship. Even the pilots were silent. The only sound was the steady drone of the engines as it hovered over the chasm.

"Repeat." Varik stood in the open doorway, gripping the safety rail and peering in to the darkness below, squinting against the dust being thrown up by the engines.

Faro had descended on the rappel line to help Haar out.

"He's not breathing." The squad medic's tone was flat with shock. "I'm coming up now."

The winch raised both commandos easily and Mire helped pull them both in to the body of the gunship so the blast doors could shut.

Faro had yanked off the sniper's helmet and chest plates, scattering them on the deck, but it made no difference.

 _Haar wasn't breathing._

 _He had drying, sticky blood around his mouth and down his cheek, matting in to his hair._

 _His skin was ghostly white and disturbingly cold._

 _And his eyes were staring sightlessly up at the ceiling of the gunship_.

Faro pressed his fingers to his brother's neck, closing his eyes to concentrate. It was a fruitless effort but he did it anyway. He pulled his hand away and tried to swallow the lump in this throat that threatened to choke him. "No pulse."

Varik was completely silent.

Mire gave a choked sob, turning to walk away a few steps.

Faro felt a wave of emotion wash over him, so powerful that he felt dizzy. And sick. But he swallowed and tamped it all down. "RC-1331, KIA." The pilots would radio it in with their details.

It would be confirmed by a true medic when they landed, but it wasn't something he could misdiagnose…

He leant forward and gently closed his brother's eyes. "I'm so sorry, vod'ika. Forgive me.

This couldn't happen to them. This happened to other squads…

It had to be a nightmare.

He prayed to every deity he could think of that he would wake up in the Arca Barracks.

But this wasn't a dream. And nothing could turn back time for them now.

* * *

Varik allowed himself to be shoved aside by the time medic vode who descended upon Haar's body as soon as they landed on the permacrete. He was hoping for some flurry of activity but they slowed when they saw the sniper's wound.

One reached forward and gently felt for a pulse, but Faro had been right; it was hard to get that particular diagnosis wrong. The second medic ran a scanner over the sniper's head and examined the results before scanning the armour tally and updating the results.

 _RC-1331; KIA_

It was formal.

Faro touched a hand to Haar's cold cheek, stroking gently, before turning away sharply and striding across the landing strip away from them, his footsteps echoing in the twilight.

Mire followed the medics and they laid Haar's body on a repulser powered gurney, covering him with a sheet and guiding it towards the nearest doorway in to the massive sprawl of the Arca complex. He didn't really know why he was trailing along behind when there was nothing more to be done.

They'd be stood down until a fourth member was assigned, which meant they'd be staying on Coruscant. Their ship pilots had stood a few steps away after landing them on the medical platform. Manda thank them, they'd got the squad back to Coruscant as quickly as possible, just in case they were all wrong and something could be done. Now they melted back towards their ship, leaving Varik standing on the permacrete alone.

After a few moments of complete isolation, Varik took off in the opposite direction, hoping that he could rely on the surrounding buildings having a standard layout. His pace picked up to a trot as he got inside and he built up speed until he located and bolted through the door he'd been searching for.

Mercifully, the fresher was empty and he collapsed in to a cubicle with a clatter of armour and vomited violently. When he collapsed back against the wall there were tears streaming down his cheeks and the walls echoed with his noisy, gulping sobs.

It had to be a nightmare. His squad survived everything, no matter what.

They may not be perfect but they always got to the end.

They were survivors.

With every passing moment, he expected someone to come in and discover him here, but nobody did.

He half expected his squad brothers to find him, but nobody came looking.

* * *

Several hours later, Fidget and Cairn – two of the many pilots stationed here on Coruscant - came across an apparition. The vod was bare-chested and heavily streaked with blood. He was clasping one forearm tightly while blood dripped steadily from his elbow, leaving a trail of devastation across the pilots bunk room.

He was white as bone and clearly terrified.

Cairn leapt forward to help him, prying the hand away briefly and cursing the air blue. He clamped his own hands tight over the top of the unknown brother's arm, trying to apply enough pressure to slow the bleeding.

He turned and shouted over his should at his co-pilot, who still stood in shock, staring at the carnage in their room. There seemed to be blood on every surface, as if the vod had thrashed about across the space in panic.

"Get help!" Cairn barked, trying to get his younger brother's attention. "Fidget, get help, now!"

He watched Fidget leap in to action at the tone of his voice and scurry away back the way they'd come, then he turned his attention back to the stranger who had decided that of all places, there bunkroom was the place to have the ultimate crisis.

He tightened his grip, feeling his own hands slick and wet already.

Varik whimpered and sank slowly to the floor, no longer able to support his own weight. He'd made a horrific mistake. He's made many horrific mistakes.

"I didn't mean it." He whispered, his voice barely audible even to his own ears.

Cairn settled on his knees, holding the commandos arm elevated. "It's okay, I understand. It's okay. Just try to relax. Help won't be long."

Varik shook his head weakly. He didn't mean this. This was a stupid mistake, but it wasn't what he was speaking about. "…made a mistake...Haar…"

Cairn tried to focus on the ramble but couldn't make out what was being said. He continued to make vague noises of comfort while watching more blood than he imagined could be lost spread across his own arms and the off-white armour that the commando still wore on his lower half. "It's going to be okay, trust me."

 _It was never going to be okay again._


	17. Chapter 17

_**20 BBY**_

E'li was heading back to barracks with Graves when he got the message.

He wore his comm unit on his leather gauntlet so that he would feel the buzz against his skin but he diverted it to his datapad so that he could read it and keep walking, trusting his Alpha Captain to ensure he didn't walk in to anything! Graves rarely had to spend any great degree of time with E'li, but Misfit had been place in charge of two commando squads on a short mission and E'li had been unable to work it so that both Alphas could go together. So Graves was moping here, doing the desk job that he so hated. He'd already had a dust up with Maze and everything would be quieter when he had Misfit back at his side.

E'li came to an abrupt halt, forcing the pedestrians who had been meandering along in their wake to take evasive action. Nobody cursed at him, like they would at a normal slow walker; the lightsaber hanging at his hip got him instant respect, which was backed up by his muscular build and the wall of solid ARC trooper by his side.

Graves heard him curse in Ryl with such emotion that his hand instantly went to his sidearm. "Sir?" He moved subtly, taking a defensive stance. E'li didn't respond at all. He had frozen in position; his grip on the datapad so tight that he screen cracked.

Graves had never seen anything break a GAR issued datapad – they were designed to be robust enough to withstand anything life threw at them – so he guessed that it must have been lapsed Force power at work there. He cautiously returned his deece to his holster now that it seemed clear there was no immediate danger. E'li hadn't reached for his lightsaber. In fact, he hadn't moved.

There was blood running down the cracked and pitted screen of the datapad.

Graves reached out to touch his general, bringing his hand down gently on his shoulder. "Sir?" The twi'lek sluggishly turned his head to look at him as if seeing a ghost and Graves' stomach turned. He had this sudden, horrendous feeling that something had gone wrong, and his first thought was for Misfit.

He did what was unthinkably rude, especially towards his general, but he couldn't stop himself…he shifted closer to look at the message on the cracked screen.

The display was broken but the squad report was for Kappa squad and that was enough to calm his sudden terror that something had happened to Misfit.

He couldn't see what the message had said before the screen broke, but he knew that it had to be bad. It had sent his usually unflappable general in to a comatose state of shock.

People were starting to stare at them.

He turned to glare at anyone who dared gawk. He removed his helmet and clipped it to the back of his belt, turning his macabre tattoos towards the crowd. It was enough to scare away any civvie and it gave him some breathing room to get through to his general.

He gently reached out and removed the broken datapad from the twi'lek's grip; securing it on his own belt and turning over the lilac fingers to find the cut. It was a small, deep laceration but it would clot and heal up fine.

"E'li?"

He didn't use the general's name when he was 'on duty' in public, but it seemed like the only way to get through to him. People reacted to their name more so than their title.

And E'li was no exception to that rule.

He blinked and twitched a lek anxiously, reaching suddenly to run his hand over each lekku to still the movements that would give away his emotions to any twi'lek observer. He wished he had his long robes because he could pull the cowl up over his head, but he had dressed for the warmth with just a long sleeved tunic and pants.

 _Now he felt naked._

Graves was staring at him with concern clearly written across his face.

"Haar's gone." E'li bit out the words as if they were poison, rubbing a hand over the decorative scars on his throat. He needed to get to the medbay…needed to see for himself. It didn't feel real.

Graves' gut instinct had been right, once again. It never let him down. He'd learned early in life to listen to his gut.

He was torn between palpable relief that it wasn't bad news about Misfit's mission, but then the sudden, crushing blow to hear that another brother had perished. He didn't know what to say. He needed to find the remains of the squad and check in with them all…see if they needed anything.

E'li took off again in the direction of the barracks, springing in to action at a sprint that would easily leave the Alpha lumbering behind. The jedi had a turn of speed that none of the clones could match, but Graves intended to make a damned good attempt…

* * *

The silver haired medic looked nervous to have a sweaty, panting jedi crashing in to medbay. "He's still in the side room, sir. We've not moved him to the morgue yet." He looked apologetic, but he was up to his elbows in blood and there was clearly a rush of action going on. "I'm sorry, sir, but we've just had a transport of wounded men brought in and I've not had a chance…" His ramble fell suddenly silent, as if the words had got lost on the way to his mouth. His tension drained away and a peacefulness returned to his mind despite the carnage of his job.

Cobalt was a good medic. He worked hard in this large medbay, day in day out, watching brother's slip away every single day. But he did his best for every single one of them.

"It's okay, my friend." E'li had regained some of his poise now that the shock had worn off, and he wasn't going to harass the medic if at all possible. He generally didn't use the Force to influence the clones, but it felt like the startlingly blue eyed medic could do with some calming vibes right now. "I'll take myself through, if that's okay."

He didn't expect an argument and he didn't receive one.

Instead he moved away from the main body of the medbay and in to the smaller side room that had been pointed out. It appeared to be a temporary store for those brothers that hadn't survived whatever terrible injuries they came in with.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him, suddenly feeling his stoicism fleeing as he was faced with nine gurneys completely covered by white sheets. He was confronted with the task of lifting the edge of each blanket in turn until he found the one body belonging to his friend.

 _He'd never quite thought of it like that, but the clones were his friends. They were his family as well…they were like brothers to him._

 _Haar had been like a brother, even if neither of them quite realised._

And now he felt his stomach twist because each body looked disturbingly alike. With the features relaxed in death, it was impossible to tell them apart by mannerisms, posture or individual habits…all he had to go on was distinguishing marks. Some had tattoos, facial scars, different hairstyles…

The sixth body in the macabre line-up had the right hairstyle, but he had to pull the sheet further down, searching for the scar that he knew ran along under the sniper's right collarbone. He found the scar and knew he had the right body.

It disturbed him even more to find himself staring down at Haar and being unable to feel his force presence. He'd seen dead bodies before, but this was the first time he'd felt the painful absence of 'soul'. All dead bodies before had been strangers. But this was painfully close to home.

 _He felt like he'd lost a family member._

 _And where were his brothers?_

 _Where were the squad?_

 _Why was nobody here to pay their last respects? …for any of these men._

He moved the blanket aside a little so that he could take the sniper's hand, squeezing his cold, lifeless fingers.

Nobody had taken time to tidy up the body like they would with a normal person. The blaster wound hadn't done too much damage to the commandos face, but the dried blood was matted down his cheek, around his mouth and down his neck. It was easy to see where the neck of his body suit finished, because the trails of blood stopped at this point.

It must have soaked in to the fabric instead.

What bothered him more than the blood was the evidence of dried tears.

Haar had cried before taking his life – maybe he had still been crying when he pulled the trigger.

And nobody was there to comfort him…to tell him that he had worth…that he was loved.

E'li sniffed, biting his lip until the vision of the fallen commando blurred before him.

He was standing over the body, weeping silently when Graves finally caught up with him.

Without a second thought, he turned and practically fell in to the arms of the startled ARC.

Fuck rules. Fuck segregation. And fuck slavery.

These men were his brothers.

He felt the Alpha's arms close around him, first nervously, then after the unwritten rule of rank and separation fell away, the grip tightened.

Graves had seen dead brothers before, but this was the first time he'd witnessed suicide, and it made the pain in his chest spread until he felt like he couldn't breathe and the sob broke free, completely beyond his control.

He gripped E'li tight, arms resting under his lekku and against his back.

They may be incredibly different. E'li was a Jedi; highly skilled and powerful. Graves was a slave soldier. But they were both twenty-something year old men who had never known the true love of a normal family.

This _was_ their family.

And for that fact, they were more alike than they may ever have thought before.

* * *

Maze lay in the dark, staring up at the patterns of light on the ceiling. He was doing his best to ignore the noise of footsteps and intermittent pacing in the hallway outside his room.

His accommodation was part of the block of private rooms reserved for the upper ranks; this particular area was used by the Alpha ARCs when they were on Coruscant. It was often quiet. It was also lonely. But just now there was only Graves in this hall with him, which was about the one person he didn't want to be sharing the space with just now. He had dull aching bruise from their earlier altercation.

He sighed, kicking his blanket away and pushing himself off the bunk. When he opened the door and poked his head out in to the hallway, he found the culprit to his own insomnia just as he anticipated.

 _Graves was a sight…_

He was walking the length of the corridor, barefoot and dressed in just a thigh length tunic – his idea of suitable nightwear. His many tattoos were clearly visible and there was one particularly fresh one curling down his thigh, which no doubt went up around his hip.

That wasn't something Maze particularly wanted to see but going by the Captain and his partner's casual approach to nudity, he would most likely get a good look at it sometimes soon. The fact that Graves was moping was probably the only reason he hadn't seen him in the showers this evening.

In fact, he'd seen very little of him, which is unusual. He hadn't been in the mess hall, or the showers, and this was the first time he'd caught sight of them since their fist fight early in the morning.

But there was only one way that either of them was going to get any sleep…

He stepped out in to the hall, hugging his arms around himself against the cold. "Wayii, Graves, what's the meaning of this? Some of us are trying to sleep." He turned back towards his room, and beckoned with a hand. "Get your shebs in here and stop wearing a track in the flooring."

As he stepped back in to his room, he silently counted to three, then heard the footsteps coming towards him.

Graves stopped in the doorway, looking questioningly at his Alpha brother.

Maze gave him an exasperated sigh, looking him up and down…lingering over the obscenely short 'nightdress'-like tunic. "Are you even wearing any kute?" He rolled his eyes at the negative reply and reached in to his own drawers to pull out a pair of his own shorts, throwing them towards the macabre ARC trooper. "Get it covered and get in the bed…I won't offer twice."

Graves looked a little shocked, but he stepped in to the underpants and followed his brother in to the bunk; squeezing in to the narrow space beside him.

It necessitated a little shuffling until they were both comfortable and he ended up curled up against Maze's back with an arm loosely resting over his side.

It was cosy and comfortable…not as good as snuggling up with Misfit, but any port in a storm…they all thrived on contact, regardless of sexual orientation. He was just surprised that Maze had invited him in to his bed after their earlier altercation. He could usually carry a grudge for days.

So Graves offered up a quiet apology in to the darkness. "Worrying about Misfit makes me edgy, I'm sorry." He flexed his fingers against a scar on Mazes stomach. "And one of General E'li's squads has just taken a loss and I can't find the remaining three vode to talk to them…they'll be around somewhere, but I would have liked to make sure they are dealing okay. But I guess the fact that I can't find them answers that question just the way I don't want to hear."

Maze rumbled a quiet agreement. He wasn't a man of many words, but he understood the stresses as much as the next Captain did…he just wished this particular one would be less weird and difficult. "They'll be okay; give them time to get their heads around it."

"It was a suicide."

There was a moments silence then Maze cursed. "They'll be okay."

He laced his fingers over Graves' and squeezed briefly. "Now go to sleep." He took his hand away and shuffled to get himself settled comfortably, tugging his half of the blanket up to his chin. "And just remember that I'm not your Misfit…if you grope me I will break your legs."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

E'li looked at the young commando who stood so tensely beside the entrance to the RC training area. His entire kit was squeezed in to a small duffle bag at his feet; everything he 'owned' in the entire world was in that bag, and even then, it was nothing more than a few sets of fatigues, underwear, boots and a hygiene kit. He had his deece slung over his shoulder but not in the carefree way that the others did. He looked stiff; as if modelling exactly how a commando as expected to look, and without the relaxed air of those who'd lived this their entire life.

He even looked shiny. His armour had no marks, no scores or defining marks, and none of the paint schemes that made the others look unique. E'li knew that the young clone was midway through his eighth year of life, meaning that he was physically somewhere between sixteen and eighteen – far too young to be rushed in to a squad who were struggling so much and who were nearer physical-twenty-four. The difference was striking and that was before they were even put together.

E'li had no idea how this was going to go. He's left the squad alone to come to terms with their loss, although he had tasked Graves to discreetly locate them and make sure they were safe. Beyond that, they'd been left alone to grieve in their own way.

###

 _Graves had located Faro and Varik by asking around, and once he'd verified that they were accounted for, he'd left it at that. They clearly wanted to be left alone, so he left them alone._

 _Mire, on the other hand, proved much harder to locate. It seemed just like he'd vanished in to thin air. It was only out of desperation that Graves and Misfit eventually tried asking the bar girl that Mire had spent a pleasant night with…and probably a few more times since…not really expecting to get any useful information, but ending up shocked and surprised._

 _Nora looked relieved to see them and had explained how she'd come home from work the night before, and found Mire sitting on her sofa in the dark. He'd even relocked her door behind himself, so she had no warning until she flipped the light on and screamed. Even then he barely moved. Once her heart had stopped hammering, she'd approached him cautiously._

 _When he looked up, there were wet tear tracks running down his cheeks and his eyes had the puffy red quality of someone who'd been crying for a long time and still not exhausted himself. He didn't manage a full sentence, but whimpered the name 'Haar', and let his head fall forward into his hands._

 _When Nora knelt down in front of him, he slid forward off out of his seat and practically ended up in her lap. It was quite a shock to find yourself with 6tf of muscle trying to curl up in your lap like a child._

 _It had taken Nora a long time, and some numb limbs, before she was able to get him to walk at all. And what he babbled next was the spear through her heart._

" _He was only twelve years old…and he spent all that in fear." Mire's voice was small but held immense feeling; still thick with emotion._

 _Nora had voiced her confusion and been faced with a rambled explanation of the double aging – and what was worse was the fact that there was no suggestion that Mire thought that this was strange. It was just a fact of life as far as he was concerned._

 _It had rattled around her mind as she attempted to comfort her loved and she felt the strange guilt creeping up on her. She'd known Mire to be a little naïve in anything that wasn't military related…but had she technically slept with someone underage?_

 _Had she taken advantage of his immaturity?_

 _He was a mature man in body, but inside he was technically a child._

 _Now wasn't the time to talk about it, but she couldn't get the thought out of her mind. She'd tolerate several crude comments from colleagues who'd noticed her blossoming relationship with a clone. Some didn't think he was a man in his own right; assuming him to be less 'human' since he was one of millions. Others had made comments about him taking advantage of her purely for sexual gratification since she went months without seeing him, to which she's hotly pointed out that he spent the intervening time risking his life so that she and everyone else could rest safely. They'd shut up about it after her rant, but now she was concerned that maybe she'd been the one taking advantage._

 _After speaking to Nora in the bar, Graves had taken note of her address – turning down her keys with a smile that said no lock would keep him out – and ensured her that he'd lock the door again behind him_

 _The Alpha pair let themselves in to Nora's flat, bringing with them a carry out of succulent nerf strips over fried potatoes with a fragrant, spicy sauce. Nora had bagged up three large takeaway boxes and slipped them across the counter without expecting any payment._

 _The smell was enough to bring Mire to the small coffee table, although no words had been exchanged. They are in companionable silence. Nobody mentioned anything, and nobody asked any questions…for which Mire was extremely grateful._

 _After they'd munched their way through the large boxes of comfort food, they took Mire into the small fresher and got him showered and shaved, then ready to head back to face the routine of the barracks._

 _The food had put some colour back in the commando's cheeks, but he still wasn't himself when the brought him home. It would take time. Neither Alpha truly understood losing a close brother and hoped they never had to, but they could help. Every clone knew how to help another._

###

It had been Graves' idea to do the introductions on neutral territory, to hopefully lower the pressure on the newcomer. He didn't think that they would be intentionally unkind towards their new squad brother, but everything had been very strange over the past few days.

The only member of the squad to have come to E'li was Sergeant Varik, and even that had shocked him more than he'd like to say.

The sergeant had knocked quietly on his door the day after Haar's death. He'd come in to the office and stood at perfect attention, dressed in gleamingly clean armour, then asked for permission to step down as sergeant, as if asking nothing more than permission to stand at ease. E'li had been so shocked that he didn't know what to say, but he'd managed to pull himself together enough to react.

Despite his problems, Varik was a good sergeant, and throwing that away would be a waste. Not to mention the fact that E'li was pretty sure that there were no allowances for the clones to voluntarily drop rank. Then only way they could get demoted was by extremely poor behaviour, and anything bad enough to warrant demotion would generally be bad enough to merit reconditioning as well.

E'li had sat him down and spoken at length in an attempt to get to the bottom of the problems. He hadn't managed to dig very deep, but he had at least succeeded in getting the sergeant to talk a little about Kamino. He hadn't revealed much but he had tried to explain 'survival' s they had been taught.

He told him about the killing house exercises.

He told him about the time that one of those had gone wrong for Faro and resulted in the network of fine scarring across his back, and then the time when his own rappel line had failed, resulting in a broken back and fear of termination.

With a little prompting, he'd even recounted his memories of Haar's near drowning.

At the time, Varik had been so sure that he had made the right decision - Vau had told him that he'd acted correctly – but now he wasn't so sure.

Haar had rescued Varik from drowning…and now that he thought more about it, he was very happy that he had. It hadn't been until now that he truly valued being alive. As if on cue, his arm throbbed under the swathes of bacta bandages that were hidden below the armour.

* * *

So down the hallway, the trio of original Kappa Squad commandos waited in the meeting room with Varik still standing as Sergeant despite his fears. He'd been a little concerned when he went to speak to them earlier, but while they did all feel bitter and sharp at the edges, no arguments had broken out…and he was sure of this because he'd stood in the hallway for ten minutes before and after meeting with them, just in case they decided to take advantage of his absence.

He could feel that Mire and Faro were angry with their brother, but Varik was being so contrite that there was no spark to ignite the anger.

Now he had the task of bringing this near-child in and attempting to integrate him in to the squad. He wished he didn't have to do this. A young cross-trained commando – according to Graves' rushed lecture on the concept of the barely-ready-cross-trained-vode who were being shunted out to join squads – needed decent support if they were to survive the steep learning curve. Too many had already been assigned and met an untimely end through lack of experience. They really needed the support of the squad to get them through, until they picked up enough on-the-job lessons.

A few years' wort of cross training didn't give enough skills to make a standard trooper in to a commando capable of joining an elite unit, and Rami was barely old enough to be moved off Kamino; in fact, E'li had looked at his training record and was convinced that they must have fudged the records because it looked as though he'd untaken more final tests than there could possibly have been time for in the past week. It looked as if young Rami had been short changed on the vital training and sent out ill equipped.

 _How many other young clones were being sent out like this? Unless you bothered to dig in to the fine details of each individual, you wouldn't even notice, but it was a huge injustice. There were few enough opportunities to teach these cross trained men everything, so doing them out of some vital training was just like sending them to slaughter._

E'li approached the young transfer, ensuring that his own reservations didn't show. "RC-5597/1654?"

The commando stood even more stiffly to attention, if that was even possible, and snapped a perfect salute. "Sir."

E'li was transported back instantly to the day he was first introduced to the squads under his command. They'd been as sharp as this until he convinced them that there were better ways to work together, especially considering how little he knew about military matters. "Welcome, my name is General E'linvhara…please just call me E'li. What's your name, my friend?" He watched Rami mentally translate this.

It was a look he'd got from all the new recruits. He wasn't sure whether the clones ever met a twi'lek before leaving Kamino, or whether it was the thicker Ryl accent that came from E'li's cultural background that threw them. Vheric twi'leks had less contact with the rest of the galaxy's beings; little trading and only a few who got out and did jobs away from the clans. You got some males as body guards for other twi'leks, or as mercenaries and bounty hunters, but little else. It meant that the accent was less watered down, and people often seemed to need to get used to E'li's before they could follow his speech with ease.

"Rami, sir." The young clone shifted minutely in a way that was easy to read. He was very anxious about this exchange being perfect. He'd clearly been taught how to deal with Jedi, and that involved a lot 'sir and starch', as Graves liked to call it.

"At ease." He waved a hand idle and flicked a lek in a relaxed manner. "Come with me, Rami. I'll introduce you to your squad."

Rami picked up the duffle and tried to march after the twi'lek, but E'li's stride was too slow and prevented Rami from keep a good marching gait. He was trying to take in everything, but the barracks were huge and far more lively than the highly organised sterility of Kamino.

He followed the twi'lek down the hall, practically hypnotised by the swinging of the lilac lekku.

E'li opened the door of a meeting room and beckoned Rami inside. The three original members of Kappa Squad pushed themselves to their feet and turned to face them. E'li smiled and stepped forward to make introductions, although he was pretty sure that this wasn't on the list of things a Jedi was meant to do…but he wanted this to go as well as possible. "Rami, this is RC Squad Kappa; Faro, Mire and Sergeant Varik. Lads, this is Rami. He's direct from Kamino and ready for your guidance."

Mire tilted his head and stared at the young clone. "How old are you, Rami?" His tone held barely concealed shock. It certainly wasn't only E'li who thought that the new addition was a bit young to be thrown in to the fray.

Rami let his gaze drop, as if he'd been dreading this question. "I'm eight, sir, but I'm ready. I work hard." There was almost a pleading edge to his voice; as if he were scared that he was about to fail an unknown test.

"Shab…eight?" Faro's eyes were wide with disbelief and he looked to E'li. "Has there been some mistake, sir? Rami should have at least another two years of training before he leaves Kamino…"

E'li looked to Rami, seeing the teenager hang his head further and tried to marshal a good answer which didn't amount to admitting that the clones were dropping faster than they could be replaced. "He's passed every test in his cross training, and has a good head on his shoulders. The war's been hard…"

Much to everyone's surprise, it was Varik who stepped forward to draw together these fears and worries. He crossed the floor and placed a supportive hand on Rami's shoulder. "Well, as I see it, we've got the perfect chance to teach Ram'ika how to be the perfect commando. Too much training and he wouldn't necessarily slot in to the squad well, but this way he can learn how to work with us...and we'll keep an eye on him. Teach him the tricks of the trade." He ruffled Rami's hair and turned to his brothers, aware that he was still unpopular, but all he could do was go forward with the lessons learnt.

E'li swallowed any shock that might have bubbled to the surface, and leapt on this change of attitude. "That's exactly right, Varik. This is a good opportunity, and I have every confidence that Rami will make his place in the squad." He looked down at his chrono. "And just to help with squad bonding, Graves has set up a list of training exercises that he thinks would be valuable to get you working together."

There were rumblings of discontent at the idea of having to do work on their leave, but Rami perked up again and looked excited at the prospect.

E'li grinned toothily, knowing that the Alpha had a sadistic sense of humour and had lined up the most difficult skill to learn first. Rami's test for this had looked falsified, so it was vital that he got the chance to learn before they were sent out.

"I hate to break it to you, but he's waiting for you down at the zero-g training sim."

The expressions where just what he expected. Nobody particularly liked the sense of floating and trying to achieve an objective at the same time.

"Have fun."


	19. Chapter 19

4 days later

Misfit let himself into the training space changing room to find out just what was going on. He'd come in search of Graves, knowing that he was still going through the strict 'catch-up training' for Rami as part of the new Kappa, but a comm message from his cyar'ika implied that it hadn't quite gone to plan.

He found the squad in the changing room, clustered around one bench with a first aid kit open beside them. Mire was holding a towel to a bloody lip, and Rami had a cool pack pressed to a rather large bump on his head.

"What the fek happened?"

He'd heard that there'd been numerous incidents over the past few days. Rami had proven to be competent and talented considering his age, but clumsy in a way that exceeded even the awkward teenage growth spurt. There'd been nothing serious…just a lot of little incidents. They'd laughed about them and got on with it the first time, but now the new sniper was looking distinctly embarrassed

This time it had been hand to hand fitness work, and somehow Rami had managed to stumble and head-butt his unfortunate opponent, leaving them both dazed but with no lasting harm.

Faro sat back on his haunches, wiping his hands on a towel and patting Rami's knees bracingly. "Oh, nothing. Ram'ika's just not joking when he said he had a reputation for clumsiness!"

The youngster blushed and grinned, looking up at Misfit, who had been welcomed home by his fellow Alpha with a peck on the cheek that showed barely veiled promises. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to do it!" He shrugged. "I've always been clumsy."

Varik was giving him a look that read plainly of concern. They'd be sent out on missions soon and this vod was barely out his tuition years. He knew what he was doing, and it was clear why he'd been moved up the ranks for cross training. He had a natural talent and a cunning mind. But he was as clumsy as sin, especially in the heavy and cumbersome commando armour that was all new to him.

Kappa had been trained in this armour since youth and it was like a second skin to them, but Rami had only been given it when he graduated to join the squad, and it was clear in his movements.

Graves chuckled, remembering a few of his own awkward, clumsy movements in youth, when it felt like his body was growing too fast for the rest of him to keep up. He'd fallen over his own feet more often than he'd care to remember. To be fair, he wasn't as bad, even at his most gangly of teenage phases, as poor Rami was now!

"Don't worry. It'll come right with practice!" Misfit stepped in to provide a bit of comforting big brother vibes. The whole squad needed it, even if it was primarily aimed at Rami.

There was little time to grieve in a clone's life, and the trio were clearly still mourning the loss of Haar at the same time as welcoming this new brother. There wasn't the open hostility between them, but there was a slight tension from Mire and Faro towards Varik, that was perceptible if you were tuned in and knew how badly the loss had gone down. They seemed to be doing their best to provide a united front so that Rami didn't feel that unrest that was present below the surface, but it was visible if you knew what to look for.

He reached for Graves' shoulder, nudging him playfully. "How about we show these lads how it's _really_ done…by the experts."

* * *

 _E'li sat down with Graves and Misfit towards the end of the week. He hadn't wanted to harass the squad by observing them while they were trying to gel, but a mission had come up that would require both the squad and the Alphas. It wasn't a mission ideally suited to either group alone, but together they had the necessary skills and experience._

 _He just wished he didn't have to send them out so soon. He'd hoped to give them at least another week to get acquainted before anything too trying came up, but luck wasn't on his side._

 _He was under pressure to deploy any inactive squads on this mission, regardless of what he thought were extenuating circumstances._

 _The best he could do was send the Alphas with them to patch the gaps and hope for the best._

* * *

The steel gantry was slippery under foot with oil spilled from the processing and their attention was fixed on the factory floor below. The armour coating made them invisible to the droids but that didn't mean they were safe. They could still draw attention if they made too much noise.

Rami was following close on Mire's heels, keeping an eye up for any movement on the gantries above when he slipped and crashed down against the rickety side rail. The factory obviously wasn't used by anyone other than droids anymore and maintenance was neglected.

Instead of protecting them, the railing gave way under the weight of a fully armoured commando and Rami went crashing down to the machinery below. It wasn't too great a distance, but he landed hard on the moving surfaces, letting out a grunt of surprise and pain.

Misfit had his rappel line out and was searching for somewhere stable enough to attach it while Mire and Graves dropped down to crouch in the shadows, rifles poised in case any droids took were near enough to hear the noise. Varik and Faro were too far ahead to have realised anything was going untoward.

Mire watched the pattern of movement in the machinery and felt a cold, sick dread of realisation in the pit of his stomach. "Rami! Rami, move your arm!"

The young sniper was gripping the sloping surface to prevent himself from falling the final five metres to the factory floor, but without the higher vantage point he had no idea what was going to happen until it did.

The machinery churned and twisted, pulling his gripping arm in between two unforgiving steel elements. Rami's cry of pain was completely sickening and all they could do was watch as he tried to let go but the machinery gripped his limb and chewed him further with another twist. His powerful katarn armour had been cracked in the first twist and the second bit through to his own limb, which had a much lower strength than the specialised kit.

He fell, hitting the factory floor hard, blood already beginning to pool from the severed limb.

He was silent, but it wasn't because he'd cut his comms. Mire could hear every breath in his own helmet and Rami was panting rapidly, probably too shocked to scream. Badly injured men were often deceptively quiet.

Misfit dropped rapidly as soon as he got the rappel attached to something strong enough to take his weight. His cursing was eloquent and mirrored by his brother still up on the gantry. This wasn't meant to happen. Not to the kind, sweet natured kid who'd been pushed in to this before his time.

He pulled out his own medkit and spread out his small collection of supplies. They all carried the vital necessities, but he had nothing to treat this severity of injury for any length of time. He could hear his brother calling in a code red to the flagship waiting in orbit above. Time was of the essence.

Mire appeared by his side, emptying his own medkit down beside the small pile and starting the process of removing the remains of the armour plates around the mangled stump of his brother's upper arm. It was sickening. They were no strangers to blood and gore, but to see it on his brave little brother was somehow so much harder to take. He felt his own stomach turning but swallowed hard. There was no time for his own fears – they had to look after Rami.

He just had to keep his eyes on the job and force himself no to look up at the bloody machinery which had chewed up his brother's arm.

"Clean amputation is sometimes better…" Misfit was administering pain relief and blood loss agents, "…but then this isn't so much 'clean'." There was still mangled tissue with splinters of katarn digging in to the flesh. "Wrap the limb, apply a pressure band and keep it elevated. I need to call in help."

Mire moved in to take over the first aid while Misfit opened a circuit with the flagship to find out how they were going to proceed. They'd need two people to get Rami out of here and far enough away from the factory for discrete evac. They had the speeder bikes they'd used to get here but it would be a five klick dash to get far enough from the factory to meet the gunship.

And that would leave one of the Apha's alone, while Varik and Faro where holed up waiting for the signal to complete their part of the mission. The needed another body down here quickly to help out, but Misfit seemed to have that under control.

"We'll meet him at the evac." The ARC returned, having completed his calls while Mire stabilised Rami for moving. He knelt down and carefully removed the sniper's helmet so that they could get a better idea of how he was coping.

Rami was pasty grey and breathing as if he'd run a race. His eyes were open but he looked as if he were in some far distant place. Everyone coped with pain in their own ways and he was doing so in a remarkably stoic manner. Maybe it was the shock. Maybe he didn't realise just what had happened.

Mire held a firm pressure on his brother's bleeding limb, keeping it elevated despite the effects of the coagulants. "Who?" He hadn't been following much of the conversation going around because he was too concerned with first aid. "How are we going to get him out?"

Misfit squatted down beside him and patted Rami's cheek to check his consciousness. When he judged him suitably awake, he offered his water bottle to him. "One of us is going to carry him out and the other will keep an eye out. We're meeting another ARC trooper at the larty and he will come back and join with Graves so they can complete the mission." He stowed the bottle back on his belt and ruffled Rami's hair affectionately, bringing his hand down to squeeze his shoulder. "Let's get moving. Time isn't on our side."

* * *

Misfit leant in to whisper to Mire; not wanting to startle him in his bedside vigil. "They're coming in."

Mire nodded, standing up and turning to greet his brothers with a hug, practically collapsing in Varik's arms. "I'm so sorry, Vari'. I did my best, sir, I really tried…"

The Sergeant gripped him tightly, squeezing despite the barrier of the bulky armour. "Shut it, vod'ika, you did nothing wrong. You couldn't stop him falling. It was all bad luck."

They had all been watching over the rookie Commando, desperate to avoid a repeat of their errors with Haar. It was impossible to wrap him up in cotton wool though. This was just a horrendous accident.

Most people's accidents would lead to bruises and embarrassment…Rami had just been very unfortunate.

They were followed up by Graves who was sporting a new chunk ripped from his kama and a concerned grin. He always had a smile on his face, but now it was heavily tinged with sorrow as he looked past the bulk of armour to see Rami hooked up to IVs and looking deathly pale.

He was unconscious, but he looked dead. The only movement was the steady rise and fall of his chest under the sterile white sheet. There was smudges of blood on the sheets and across his bare chest, standing out stark against his ghostly pale skin.

Varik released Mire and moved forward to take Rami's hand. "Hi, Rami, we're here with you, vod'ika. You're going to be okay." It didn't matter that his little brother was unconscious; he wanted to let him know he was safe, just in case he could hear them in his medicated stated.

"They put him under so the journey's easier. We're going straight back to Coruscant. It's the nearest good facility." Mire ran a hand through his hair, wanting to pass on all the details he'd gleaned from the medics but now that he tried to dredge it all from his memory, he found it hadn't stuck. He'd seen so many horrific things during the war but he couldn't get the image of Rami's arm being ripped off out of his head. It was going to give him nightmares when he closed his eyes. And what it worse was that it was Rami. He'd never wish this on any brother, but Rami was so much younger…he wanted to protect him and it was a cruel reminder that he really couldn't do anything much to prevent accidental injury. No matter how well they trained and how closely they worked together, it didn't solve accidental injuries.

His gaze settled on the final brother who was standing beside Graves with his helmet tucked under his arm. He wore the armour of the cross-trained ARCs, with a double sided pauldron and kama in a steel grey. He had a kind and open face despite a deep scar across his left cheek which threatened to make him appear intimidating. It was still shiny so it was obviously relatively new but he didn't seem even remotely bothered about it. Some brothers could be shy about facial scarring; feeling that it marked them as having made mistakes, but this vod held his head high as if there was nothing there.

The ARC stepped forward and held his hand out, shaking Mire's in the true Mandalorian way - clasping forearms. "My names Mica; cross trained ARC trooper, although I'm sure you can tell that at a glance!" He moved closer to the bed to get a look at Rami. "Poor vod'ika. I've always got a soft spot for those hard working young vode…I was like him once. Have they signed him up for a prosthetic?"

That was a loaded question. If they didn't give a prosthetic, then it was likely that Rami would be on a one-way trip to Kamino. Surely if they were taking him to Coruscant it had to be good news.

They couldn't cull these promising young man.

Mire swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. "Yes, thank the Manda. He has enough value for them to give a cybernetic limb. That's why the whole squad's heading back to Coruscant." He allowed Faro to embrace him in a clatter of armour, taking strength from their blossoming squad bond.

Mica fished in his belt pouch for a piece of flimsy and scribbled down a code. He reached for Varik's hand and placed it in his palm, closing his fingers around it. "I've got to get going - I had an assigned mission before I was called down to help out, but I'd appreciate it if I could keep up with his treatment. That's my comm code." He squeezed Varik's hand once, then released him and stepped back towards the door. "I hope the journey goes smoothly for you all. Good luck with his treatment. I'll be thinking of him; from one former shiny to another."

Varik managed to return the smile and watched as the younger ARC left them before turning the Graves. "He's a good vod."

Graves nodded, absentmindedly rubbing the ribbon of scarring on this throat that was responsible for his gravellier voice. "He certainly is, ner vod. He's one of the good ones."

* * *

 ** _AN: I hope that those who have read my Wolfpack stories recognise the new addition in this chapter. We've met him before. This is grown up Mica, after his ARC training. :)_ **


	20. Chapter 20

Rami woke foggy headed and with a dry mouth tasting of bacta. It was his first full immersion and he wasn't enjoying it. He tried to move but he was clearly sedated and couldn't really get his limbs to cooperate, so instead he relaxed and tried opening his eyes instead.

Through the blue haze he could see an unfamiliar medic working at the control panel outside the tank. They must have given him a sedative reversal – that must be why he was waking. He met the medic's eyes and got a clear signal which he knew meant 'be patient' and 'relax' all rolled in to one.

He couldn't really remember the events running up to his immersion. There was the fall. Then there was the crunching of his shiny new armour and a pain that he couldn't put words to describe. That thought was enough to pierce through his bleariness and he tried again to move his limbs, wanting to see what had happened but he couldn't get his arm up to see and he couldn't tilt his head enough.

His moment of unrest must have been visible in his vital signs that were tracking across the medic's screen because the brother looked up at him again and mouthed at him to relax.

So he did his best to do as he was told and closed his eyes again, knowing that he'd be out soon enough.

* * *

Once decanted and washed free of the sticky substance, Rami was settled in to a bed to rest. They said he need only stay in the medbay until he was feeling ready to move back to the barracks. He need not even spend the night if he didn't wish to, but he _would_ need to return to check and fine tune the performance of the cybernetic in a week's time.

He was already dressed in his fatigues and sitting on the edge of the bed by the time his squad had got wind that he was ready for visitors. He wanted to be back in the barracks, although he didn't know whether he even still had a place there. He was only just getting to know his three new brothers and maybe it was over already. He'd always been a clumsy individual, and invariably had at least one bruise at any given time to show for it – but this was the first time he'd done himself a serious injury.

Mire was first through the door, locating him quickly among the other vode in the ward and heading straight for him with an intent that made the other patients look up. There was a determined stride of a commando that made normal troopers take heed. It often meant trouble, but there was nothing but concern written over Mire's face.

He was closely followed by Faro and Varik; the latter looking both anxious and nervous as he strode by his brother's side.

They were all in armour, more out of a sense of security rather than any reason that they need be wearing it. It made them appear even bulkier and different than they would have been in fatigues, and drew a few stares.

It made Rami feel a sudden fear in the pit of his stomach. _Was he still part of the squad_. Sitting here in his fatigues, he felt like a cadet back on Kamino again when faced with his brothers in the commando armour. For a very short period of time, he'd felt mature and powerful beside them. He still didn't really know what had happened.

He'd been plucked out of the tank by the medic, but nobody knew anything about what brought about his injury; they were just treating what they were given. All they knew was that he had suffered a complete, traumatic amputation of his right arm which they had repaired as well as possible to make it a suitable point to accept a cybernetic. As far as they were concerned, how it came about was unnecessary information and nothing was noted down about it beyond the bare facts and initial first aid given.

Mire reached his bedside and immediately pulled him in to a tight, bracing hug, then leant back to give him a good look. "Are you okay, Ram'ika?" His gaze was drawn to the long sleeves which Rami had consciously pulled down as far as he could, but the slight difference in skin tone between his left and right hands was clarity enough. "You scared us, vod'ika. If you'd wanted to check out my first aid training you need only have asked!"

The joke was strained and Rami could clearly hear the emotion in his ori'vod's voice. He'd definitely scared them. Mire looked like he'd hardly slept…but Rami had no idea how long it had been since the accident. It could have been days…it could have been weeks, for all he knew.

He looked over Mire's shoulder as Varik and Faro caught up to flank him, adding their own concern.

"What's going to happen with me?" He needed to know the answer before he could answer any questions about how he felt. The question was turning him inside out with worry.

Mire looked taken aback, but Varik stepped forward, taking his role as squad sergeant. "You're going to come back to the barracks with us – when you're ready to – and there'll be the usual acclimatisation period allowed so that you can learn how to function with the cybernetic before we go out on missions again. It's relatively standard; you'll be fine."

Rami closed his eyes and absorbed those words, trying to steady himself. He opened them again when he felt Mire squeeze his shoulder and the other two move closer to pat his back and ruffle his hair. "So I'm still a commando?" He hated how small and unsure his voice sounded, but it was a momentous fear.

Varik rubbed a hand firmly across Rami's back, really wanting to hug him but still finding that step of showing his emotional attachment too difficult. He'd hugged Mire out of instinctual reaction but that was easier than instigating anything himself. "Of course you're still a commando. You're not getting away that easily." He patted Rami's shoulder firmly, trying to convey his desire to show care that still felt so alien. "You don't have to worry. You're one of us, vod'ika. We've got your six."

* * *

 ** _Back in the barracks_**

Mire helped his vod'ika to pack his equipment into the storage chest under the bunks. Once more they were off duty for a week, waiting until the cybernetic had been adapted to suit the young commando. "How are you feeling?" He looked at their youngest member, clearly concerned for his wellbeing, no matter how often Rami told him he was fine.

They'd only known him for eleven days, making it hard to understand the fine details in his mannerisms. He seemed to be coping with it all pretty well, despite the traumatic accident.

Rami grinned. "I'm _fine_ , ori'vod. It's doesn't hurt much at all." That wasn't entirely true. There wasn't pain exactly, but there was an uncomfortable disjointed feeling between the sensations from the synthskin covering and what his brain expected to feel. The medic had told him to expect some strange sensations to begin with, but it was still disconcerting. He'd peeled away the synthskin as soon as they'd got to the sanctuary of their barracks, wanting to face the reality of the durasteel in place of his own flesh.

Faro stood by his shoulder, closely examining the interface between Rami's own upper arm and the steel of the cybernetic. The joint was flawless and intrigued a tech-minded individual like Faro. It was a top spec cybernetic; complete with every detail available to the clone patients. It was delicate enough to be capable of doing everything a normal limb could do, but with an inbuilt strength that could exceed even the strongest of vode. It would take a bit of getting used to, but it was impressive none-the-less. He was holding back his desire to ask questions since Rami seemed to be straddling a line between being seemingly happy, but clearly shaken up by it all.

Mire had diverted the conversation away from accident, despite Rami's clear desire to know exactly what had happened, but Faro could see that this was for Varik's benefit and that he should really try to divert the sergeant's attention so that Mire could have some time alone to tell Rami about what happened.

While the three of them weren't exactly perfect yet – there was a definite air of tension still hanging over them after Haar's death – they could still see Varik making the effort to be a changed person when it came to their new vod'ika and that was something they wanted to encourage.

Caring came naturally to Mire; he was always aware of the emotions and potential problems going on around him within the squad. For Faro, it took a little more effort to tune in and pay attention, but he was capable of being as caring as Mire. But Varik had always been the opposite end of the spectrum. He had always chosen to push and nag, rather than risk showing any weakness. He was always trying to do everything at once and since the role of sergeant gave him responsibility, that had always weighed heavy on him, no matter how much Mire and Faro – or even Haar – had tried to help.

Now he seemed to be trying to make amends and move forward in a positive manner.

Rami flexed his durasteel fingers and stared at them as if trying to associate that movement with himself.

Without warning, Varik took his hand and pressed a crumpled bit of flimsy into his palm and folded his fingers shut over it. Mica had seemed quite young to be among the ranks of the cross trained ARC troopers, so maybe the vod'ika could help settle their squad brother in a way that they couldn't since they were all older and hardened by the experience of seeing the war from day one. They couldn't really see things that scared a vod'ika who had grown up among the ranks of the regular troopers and then made the leap to special forces, but Mica would. He stepped back and ran a hand through his own close cropped hair, realising that it was really due to be clipped again. He wore it so short that it got untidy quickly and he couldn't abide untidy.

Before he could speak, Rami had opened his fingers and glanced at the flimsy in confusion. "What's this?"

"When you got hurt, another ARC trooper joined us to help complete the mission." Varik pointed at the flimsy. "He gave us his comm code and said he would appreciate the chance to keep in touch to see how you get on. He was a cross-trained ARC trooper; said he had a soft spot for those like him who made the leap to join the commandos. He was going straight out on a mission afterwards, so none of us have commed him to tell him how your surgery went, but he'd probably appreciate it if you sent message."

Rami stared down at the comm code, turning it over in his fingers. "Okay." He sounded uncertain; why would some random brother be interested in him. But it couldn't hurt to send one message… "What was his name?"

"His name was Mica."


	21. Chapter 21

Graves was watching E'li out the corner of his eye while trying to ensure that nobody noticed he was doing so. He sorely missed his armour but this was a diplomatic mission and he was dressed in his starchy officer's outfit; without the convenience of his HUD, and forced to maintain a neutral expression. The tattoos on his face, neck and those creeping onto the back of his left hand had already drawn a few nervous glances from aristocratic family.

 _What would they do if they saw what his uniform concealed?_

It seemed like a simple enough job – a mere day trip – for the pair. E'li was here in his formal capacity as a member of the Jedi Order, doing his part to prevent civil unrest. It was a mere family civil war that was brewing, but it had the potential to cause disruption in a vulnerable system where the threat of Separatist activity constantly simmered. E'li was mature enough to be sent on these jobs, although he had been nervous to have such a weight on his shoulders.

Graves was here to add official clout – and to act as a reminder that the Jedi had military backing, should it be required. He missed his armour, and his weapons. He'd been asked to remove his single holster when entering the home, and with E'li's slight nod of consent, he had reluctantly relinquished his blaster. He had politely declined a glass of ambiguous alcohol, as had E'li, but accepted a few of the nibbles purely out of sympathy for the young female twi'lek who was being harassed into putting trays in front of them regardless of whether they wanted it or not. They were delicious but it wasn't good etiquette to wolf down the nibbles when dressed in your finery and pretending to be well behaved.

E'li was fuming, but it was only familiarity and a clone's skill for the subtle body language that had allowed Graves to note this. His general was doing a very good job of disguising his anger, but he was watching the female twi'lek as she was bossed about and snapped at. The ends of his long lekku were subtly animated, and while Graves didn't understand the language, he was sure that there was discussion going between the twi'leks.

The meeting went well. Peace seemed to be reaffirmed, although it probably wouldn't last long. It was a few empty promises on behalf of the Galactic Republic – how much peace could you buy with that?

But it wasn't their problem. They'd done their job.

They left in silence which held as they walked back to the ship.

Despite his own interest, Graves kept quiet until they were safely underway. E'li had taken the pilots position in an unusual show of haste, leaving Graves to co-pilot. The fury was still palpable even now. His lekku were tense, with the tips pointing towards the small of his back like daggers. It was the most blatant anger that the Alpha had ever seen on their usually cool, calm and collected General.

Eventually his interest outweigh his caution and he decided to prod the rancor. "Sir -?"

E'li erupted before Graves could say another word. He slammed his palm onto the autopilot and pushed himself away from the console to stride sharply across the cramped cockpit. It was taking every inch of his self-control to stop himself form turning the ship around and going back all guns blazing. But that would put Graves in danger, and no matter how competent his Alpha Captain may be; he couldn't take down the entire security singlehanded.

"We need to come back for her, Graves." He turned intense eyes on the clone, breathing deeply in an attempt to centre himself. "I can't leave her there."

Graves didn't need to ask who he meant. "Is she in danger, sir?" The family had certainly been giving her a hard time, but that seemed in keeping with the entire veneer that they were putting upon themselves and their home. It had been a palatial dwelling, but it had also clearly run into harder times. But the owners had been doing everything possible to try to disguise the fact that they maybe weren't as well off as they could be. That was weakness, but ultimately, the place had felt a little _empty_.

"Yes, and it's not just the home. She was one slave, and a home that size in its peak would have had the disposable income to keep a whole team to run the place. She won't have been expensive either. Common skin tone and average build – shorter lekku – all marks against her in the slave trade." E'li almost spat that out, then seemed to gather himself again, realising that he had both listened in to Graves' feelings and then replied to them – both of which were poor etiquette for any Jedi. "Sorry, but she's not just being overworked. He's…abusing her. Using her against her will for his own filthy satisfaction."

Graves caught his arm before he could start pacing again and tugged him down into the chair, keeping a close eye on the lightsaber in case he was overstepping the mark. "Sir – E'li – relax. I hear you, but rushing back in won't help her. We'll come back, with a plan, and with Misfit."

E'li allowed himself to be manhandled, so caught up in his own worries that he barely noted that Graves had known of his desire to rush back despite him being a clone with no force powers or abilities to read another's emotions. "Every moment we delay, he could be doing _anything_ to her." He growled angrily, flashing his sharp incisors in a way that was more in keeping with the lingering warrior side of his being than the Jedi. "We must come straight back."

* * *

They found Misfit with Kappa Squad, sitting with them in one of the recreation spaces. He'd been ill tempered about being left behind, but on official business there had been no way to make a reason for his presence. He wasn't meant to be by E'li's side on those occasions, unlike Graves. As a Lieutenant, Misfit's role was to work with his superiors or special tasks – usually with Graves, on whatever means E'li could find to keep them together and out of his lekku, or to take command of a group of regular troopers as and when required.

He sat up when he saw them return, immediately sensing the tension in the air, his eyes searching Graves for any sign of injury. "What's wrong?"

The change in atmosphere had ruffled Kappa Squad, bringing their attention away from the meshgeroya game showing on the holoscreen. They were all dressed in fatigues, with Rami's shining new arm glinting as the lights from the screen danced across the steel.

Graves closed the distance to flop down by their side on the sofa, taking a few gulps of what he assumed to be Misfit's water but judging by Varik's quiet rumble, not his cyar'ika's after all.

E'li joined them but didn't sit. Every muscle in his body screamed tension and danger. He wanted to be moving again. There was no time to stop.

Graves looked to him briefly to see if he was going to speak, but the twi'lek's jaw was so tightly clenched that it seemed impossible for him to utter a word. "That shabla aristocrat had a twi'lek girl as a house slave." He looked to E'li again, then to Misfit. "We're going to _liberate_ her from his slimy clutches. Now."

Misfit let that process for a moment, then nodded. They were going AWOL. This wasn't a mission briefing and he didn't even need to ask for clarification on that fact. Graves' speech was quiet enough that only their group would hear. You didn't get sanctioned missions to steal someone's slave…after all, there was no rule against using and abusing any being that you rightfully – in the eyes of the galaxy – owned. As a man with little input into his own life and no choice with regards to his career, Misfit found it hard to sympathise with anyone who felt they could _own_ another sentient.

"When are we leaving?" Varik spoke up, his voice barely more than a whisper. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "We're stealing a ship?"

Graves looked up sharply. " _We're_ stealing a ship." He motioned to Misfit and E'li. "You four are staying here and getting more practice with Ram'ika's new arm."

Mire shook his head firmly, thinking of Nora and how he'd feel if she was ever put in a position like the one mentioned. "You can't tell us this and then expect us to stay behind in the same breath."

"You could use backup, in case things go to haran. You can't very well call in Republic assistance." Faro spoke calmly and logically, but with as much conviction as Mire.

"And there's nothing wrong with my new arm. We want to help" Rami added earnestly.

There was a short silence before Varik spoke again. "We're coming with you, vode. This isn't a mission - you can't order us not to."

It was a bold move, and Varik could feel the sweat on his palms as he tried to stare down two Alphas and a Jedi, all of whom were of superior rank. His heart began to hammer. Resistance was punishable. Insubordination was court martial territory.

The seconds stretched out before E'li spoke again, making them all jump.

"Thank you, my brothers. Thank you."


	22. Chapter 22

The darkness was still, broken only by the clicking of insects in the trees around them…and the quiet sounds of Mire setting up his _toys_.

"Are you sure you've got enough?" Misfit squatted down beside the ordnance expert, examining his work with a critical eye. "We don't want this to look like a commando job – it's got to look like some incompetent amateur."

Mire forced himself to ignore the intrusion, although it made him tense. "Don't you know it's a bad idea to distract the man organising them boom?" He got a mere shrug of one armoured shoulder in reply. "I know what I'm doing, okay?"

"Yeah, but you're meant to be pretending not to know what you're doing!" Misfit argued, keeping his voice low despite the helmet. He was watching the rest of the squad hunker down in the shelter of the wall.

So far everything had gone even better that they had hoped. Getting past the guards and into the ramshackle servants' quarters had been easy – almost laughably so.

They'd found and woken the twi'lek slave, named Suu'ri, and smuggled her out. Her clothing was scant – barely enough to cover her modesty so she was now wrapped in E'li's tunics and robe. Before leaving, Faro and Rami had quietly turned the room upside down, smearing animal blood around to make it look like there had been a struggle. They were banking on the fact that Suu'ri – while being their only slave – wouldn't warrant an investigation.

What with the upcoming explosion, it should look like a bit of inter-family guerrilla warfare…

"Okay, shift your shebs!" Mire grunted as he levered himself back to his feet.

He waited until Misfit was back on his feet, then motioned for everyone to start moving. He'd had to make this device crude, with a short fuse and a nerve wrackingly weak range for his trigger. He hung back until everyone was underway, then crept forward until he was at the maximum range to still be able to detonate.

Three…two…one…

He depressed the trigger and plunged forward, sprinting as fast as the armour would allow. He could see his brothers starting to cross the bridge when the explosion hit him hard from behind. He'd moved as far as he could, but the force still sent him stumbling.

He was up on his feet in a heartbeat, feeling the fear creeping up his spine as he tried to sprint on weak legs. Adrenaline did horrible things when you really needed your body performing at its utmost. He was catching up with his brothers though, since the group were moving only as fast as Suu'ri could run, in her bare feet and oversized clothes.

The ground shook with the force of the force of the secondary explosion and the pressure wave knocked them flat as they ran for it. They all felt the shift under their hands and knees as the bridge abutment cracked and the deck began to tilt. The female twi'lek who had introduced herself as Suu'ri had tried to stand but she kept tripping over the overly large robes leant to her by E'li. Her outfit had been so scant that it might as well have not existed, so E'li had removed his tunic and robe so she could be warmly clothed. It left him bare chested but that didn't matter. It certainly didn't at this precise moment; they had bigger issues than the chill in the air.

Graves ranted a constant stream of invectives as they all began to slide across the twisting duracrete, his matte black armour scraping along the surface as he tried to dig his gauntlet-mounted vibroblade in to a crack. He reached out and grabbed Suu'ri before she could slide out of reach, tugging her in against his side. Someone grabbed on to him, unfortunately increasing the speed of his slide towards the edge but deep down he knew they were going over that precipice regardless of his efforts and he knew it was Misfit gripping his belt. There was water below them – they'd be okay as long as they could protect her from the force of the fall and any rocks as the current carried them downstream.

He heard Rami's combined string of cursing as the youngest member of the squad lost his grip and tumbled off the bridge deck towards the river below.

It didn't matter – the duracrete was breaking apart under the stress of the explosion and they were all about to take a ducking.

Misfit gripped him, cradling the small female between them as the deck finally gave out.

It was a long way to fall, but their armour cushioned them against the impact with the water. Suu'ri surfaced between them, coughing and struggling to keep her head above the surface. Those warm robes had been a good idea on land but they were dragging her below the surface now that they were saturated. She grabbed Misfit around the neck, clinging tightly to him with both her arms and legs.

Graves had managed to prevent himself from being pulled away by gripping his brother's belt, so he wrapped himself around such that she was cocooned between their heavily armoured bodies. Any rocks they hit couldn't hurt her – all they had to do was keep her head above water.

They just had to hold on tight until the river spat them again after the rapids.

* * *

The widening of the river further downstream had been enough to slow the current and allow them to swim for the shore, but by this point Suu'ri was barely conscious in Misfit's arms and E'li had lost his battle with the rapids, now having to be kept afloat between Rami and Mire.

Varik was first to shore but he waded back in to help haul everyone else out on to the sandy beach. They had only travelled about a klick downstream so it wasn't too disastrous – they were still within quick reach of their ship.

Misfit lifted the petite female twi'lek with ease. She was shivering too much to walk, freezing cold and weighed down by the soaking Jedi robes. He knew that she needed to get warmed up but there was nothing they could do here. Everything was wet. Time was critical for them now. They had to get off-planet and away before the alarm was raised.

But Mire was still kneeling by E'li's side; the Jedi slumped in a heap on the sand. He was bleeding heavily from a wound on his left lek and had a very dazed expression. It was hard to tell, but he also seemed a paler shade of lilac to usual but it was impossible to tell whether that was due to blood loss, chill or any other factor. Mire was trying to get him to his feet but he wasn't cooperating, which was very unlike E'li.

Faro knelt by their side and efficiently applied a bacta patch to the damaged lek. He wasn't familiar with twi'lek physiology and didn't know whether to give a stim or not, but E'li was robust and probably around a similar mass to them, and without it they weren't going anywhere fast.

"I could lift him?" Graves stepped over to give his assessment, trying to hurry things along. The clock was ticking and every minute was a mark against their chances of success. He didn't recoil as the Jedi curled over and vomited in to the sand. "A lekku based concussion, possibly? We need to get back to the ship to treat anything properly. He's going to get hypothermic."

Faro was the squad medic but he still listened to the Alphas because their experiences often outweighed those of the commandos…although none of them had any experience of twi'lek first aid. They knew that the lekku contained brain tissue so it was feasible that the injury could have caused a concussion. He'd never heard of it but then, he was still trying to get his head around the idea of the lekku as an erogenous zone.

 _What did they do with them…rub them...or use them to…?_

He shook his head and brought his mind back on track. He had precious little knowledge of how human sex for pleasure went – as far as he was concerned, it was all about reproduction so why was fun so important, but then it only took one look at Mire when he'd spent a night with Nora to see the spring in his step. They had quizzed him mercilessly after his first night away; keen to gain some valuable intel in to this whole _courting_ experience. Their brother had gone surprisingly shy but enough pestering had eventually convinced him to give a blow by blow account. It had been interesting to add new knowledge to their skillset but Faro still found the whole idea _unnecessary_. It seemed like an awful lot of fuss when ten minutes in a quiet corner of the showers was usually enough to keep things in check – and even that was more than Faro cared for.

He realised that he still hadn't answered Graves – although the fact that the Alpha hadn't just stormed in and done whatever he wanted to do showed that he was nervous. He checked to wrap on E'li's lek for a second time then ducked down to carefully tilt the Jedi's head back so that he could check his pupils. They seemed normal but he was shivering uncontrollably, clearly freezing cold. That was enough for him to make up his mind. "Lift him. We need to get back on the ship as soon as possible."

Graves took more care than he would with a brother, aware that despite the situation, this was still their superior. E'li may not act like that but it was ingrained habit to be polite…even if polite in this case just meant ' _don't squish his lekku'._

The run back was hard going but they made it to the ship without raising the alarm. The smoke from their overly enthusiastic explosion could still be seen rising in to the sky and trailing away with the wind.

Misfit leapt in to the pilots chair to prepare the ship for immediate launch, leaving the others in the small crew bay to deal with the twi'leks. The ship was small – too small really for the purpose but it had been hard enough to sneak out of Coruscant with this – beggars couldn't be choosers. The first thing he did was turn up the ambient temperature to something more suited to the Ryloth natives. The clone armour regulated temperature so it was easy for them to forget about others who were more susceptible to feeling the chill.

Faro was already tugging what few blanket they had out from the bunks set in to the bulkheads and bringing them all together in the middle of the floor.

Suu'ri had stiffly reached for one, trying to wrap herself up but her hands were so cold she could barely manage.

E'li was barely conscious and past making such an effort.

Graves may not have been a medic, but he knew enough to understand the necessary steps to dealing with a hypothermic patient and had already started to strip his own armour and bodysuit off while Faro removed the few saturated items of clothing from the Jedi.

The air in the ship was warm, and the armour had kept them dry so Graves' skin was pleasantly cosy…until E'li was bundled against him. Faro wrapped the pair in blankets, making sure to cocoon them completely.

Suu'ri was soaked to the skin; bedraggled, aching and cold. She had the strength to curl in on herself but it wasn't helping her at all. She'd looked away as the two men – one human and one twi'lek – had stripped away their clothing and curled up skin to skin under the blankets, but she found her mind longing for that warmth.

"She needs the same…" Faro glanced up from treating the lek wound. "Somebody get on that please."

There was a silence among the remaining commandos – and a snort from Graves who was safely free of such duty.

Rami had gone bright red – being a tender eighteen years old and still somewhat inexperienced – but he was quick off the bat with his plan to pass the buck. "Mire should do it." He turned to his brother with a desperate expression. "You love Nora…so you're okay, you can't possibly, y'know…" He trailed off and went impossibly redder.

Mire opened his mouth to argue just why he shouldn't the one to take the duty but Varik stepped in to prevent the disagreement from taking flight.

"I'll do it." The sergeant stood up and shucked his armour, peeling off his skin-tight black under suit. _Touching the pretty female twi'lek didn't bother him at all and the last thing she needed to hear was them arguing because nobody wanted to come in to contact with her. That sounded terrible…_

She was staring at him quite blatantly but that didn't unnerve him. He didn't see that he was anything much worth staring at…he looked identical to thousands of others and very similar to a male twi'lek in terms of intimate areas…he just wasn't as smooth and hairless as a twi'lek. He held up a blanket like a screen, making a show of looking away from her. "Get your wet clothes off, ma'am."

He looked away until the blanket was plucked from his hands. She had wrapped herself up but he hauled himself up on to one of the bunks and patted the mattress. "Climb in."

Suu'ri stood, frozen to the spot, shivering uncontrollably no matter how tightly she wrapped herself up. The clone was offering her warmth – but he was naked. Naked and extremely powerful. Everything inside her screamed to get away from a threat like that, but she was too cold. They _had_ rescued her…maybe they wouldn't harm her.

Against her better judgement, she struggled up on to the bunk, keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around her body so that she didn't touch him. He piled more blankets over them and lay still for a few minutes.

She still shivered, denied any skin to skin heat exchange by her self-made cocoon.

He pried gently at a corner of her blanket, trying to slowly encourage her to let her skin touch his. He wished that he could somehow convey the sincerity of his actions but with E'li out of action they would have to rely on good, old fashioned trust. Unfortunately, she had only met him hours before and her life experiences undoubtedly made her reluctant to trust strange men.

He felt her cold hand touch his chest and stifled a grunt of annoyance at the chill. He hated the cold as much as the next person, but she needed to get thawed out.

Gradually she loosened her blanket and let more skin come in to contact with him. Once she established that he wasn't going to do anything to harm her she gave in to desire and pushed herself up against him, losing herself in the warmth of his flesh.

"Good lass." His voice was soft; sleepy against her lek. "It's going to be okay now. Nobody will get past a commando squad and two ARCs to hurt you. Relax, you're safe…"

She couldn't help but do exactly as he said. The warmth and comfort was making her sleepy and listening to his breathing even out in to sleep dragged her along after him.


	23. Chapter 23

The expression on Nora's face when she opened her door was priceless – and Mire was pleased to see that she carried a blaster when opening the door in the middle of the night, despite being able to see them on her doorstep through the peep-hole. She lived in a rough area out of necessity; her wages didn't go far and this was all she could afford. He wished he could do something to help her live somewhere safer but he didn't even get paid so what good was he? It was one of the moments where he felt he was a failure – completely undeserving of a civilian partner.

They had landed as close to her building as possible, using the cover of darkness to get E'li and Suu'ri along the streets unnoticed. E'li was conscious now but still very wobbly and weak…Suu'ri was in a much better state despite her ordeal.

 _E'li had regained consciousness, curled up tightly against Graves' body under the mountain of blankets. His lekku ached badly and the pain crept up in to his head and down to the tip of the injured lek. He had subconsciously curled his good lek tightly around Graves' bare back, desperately seeking as much warmth of possible as he recovered from his unexpected dip. When he woke, everything felt oddly hypersensitive; even the sound of the Alpha's breathing and the touch of his skin._

" _Grav'ika, you're warm, and naked, and…hairy…Fek, I feel sick."_

 _Graves had managed a good natured smile, but everything from the tone, to the content of that sentence was just incredibly out of character for their General and that worried him. E'li didn't ramble…but that was exactly what he was doing now. "I hope those thoughts aren't connected, sir. I assure you I do wash…sometimes."_

 _E'li managed a small laugh, letting his head come down to rest heavily on Graves' shoulder. He had one hand resting on the clone's chest and he rubbed it up and down over the dusting of hair, then followed it down his belly with an amused huff. "Never realised just how_ fluffy _humans are."_

 _Graves hadn't known whether to laugh, blush or chastise his General, but E'li had soon lost consciousness again so he was saved from having the make a decision._

Now he was dressed again in his black bodysuit and E'li was wearing his fatigues. One of Kappa had lent their fatigues to Suu'ri and the swamped her tiny frame but it was enough to cover her up while the made the dash to Nora's flat.

Once inside, they had tried to explain the situation as best they could.

Nora dealt with it all surprisingly well, once she'd got over the shock. She left the clones to deal with E'li and took Suu'ri through to her bedroom, providing her with some clean clothing so she could shower and dress herself. They would be slightly too small but it was better than nothing. Unsurprisingly, Suu'ri was so exhausted that she fell asleep in Nora's bed rather than coming back through to join everyone. It was probably preferable that she got some time to get her head around it all and she was _safe_.

The tiny four room flat was too small for all the bodies currently occupying it. Nora had taken one look at her living room, crammed full with six tank-like clone troopers then turned back and headed in to the kitchen to cook up some food. She didn't have a lot but she could make a soup and that would stretch what little she had a little further. A few nuna breasts and a lot of frozen vegetables would make a satisfying broth for the clones. She's quickly learned just how easily pleased Mire was when it came to food that wasn't ration cubes! She was ready to assume his brothers were much the same.

She listened to them chatting and heard some of them hovering about in the hallway. When she glanced through the slightly open doorway, she was surprised to find them congregating in the 'fresher in groups like the female patrons in the bar would. Mire was standing in the open doorway, chatting to the brother who was currently using the 'fresher, thankfully blocking her unexpected view. She was glad of that, even if she would only see his back it still felt somewhat voyeuristic so she ducked back in to the kitchen, shutting the door completely to avoid any further unexpected sights. Mire had explained that clones were a very close knit group, but that wasn't quite what she had expected.

She wanted to laugh…or cry. It was all a bit much for her, but she just went on tidying up the utensils and stirring the broth. She was in the process of searching out enough bowls, mugs and other soup-suitable-receptacles when she felt hands on her back.

Mire had snuck up to her without her even hearing the door. She had no idea how he did this; for such a large man he moved incredible silently. He wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her close against the soft material of his fatigues. "I love you, cyar'ika."

She couldn't help but smile, returning the hug just as tight. "I love you too."

He was solid muscle and she absolutely adored being held in his arms like this. There was nowhere she felt safer or more loved. She had never experienced this type of love before. Civilian men didn't have the same appreciation for life that the clones had. They lived for every moment because they were all too aware of what may be around the corner.

But she paid for this with the fear that plagued her between every visit. She had to accept that he was putting himself in danger every day, and every comm call came with a mix of joy and dread until she heard his voice; so different from his brothers despite being the same.

His hand was on her thigh, rubbing up under the hem of her plain but pretty dress.

She knew what he wanted to do and part of her leapt at the thought…and the rest curled up in embarrassment because the rest of the men were on the other side of the hall.

They couldn't lock the kitchen door.

But Mire wasn't going to let that put a dampener on their moment. He leant down and lifted her off the ground with his hands under her thighs. It was no effort for him – she was very petite despite being gorgeously curvy – and he knew that she loved his shows of strength. He had stamina and power beyond that of most men, and while he knew this was going to be hard, fast and desperate, that didn't stop him putting the effort in.

Her arms went around his neck for support and he easily gripped her one handed so that he could free himself from his clothing and tug her panties aside. He had considered lifting her up and placing her on the counter but her delighted, breathy gasp made him change his mind. One of her hands had moved to grip his bicep, stroking up and down his skin. She really loved the raw power and he wasn't about to deny her that.

So instead he rocked carefully against her, taking delight in her moans becoming more and more desperate. His own patience was wearing thin when she tightened her legs around his waist and tried to force him deeper.

He grunted breathlessly when she gained a few inches and he twitched in pleasure. "That's playing dirty, cyar'ika…"

"Shut up!" She hissed, kissing him to keep him quiet. She could hear the others just on the other side of the door and she didn't know whether she was excited, scared or exhilarated. She clawed at his burgundy fatigues, kissing his neck and feeling the pulse hammering under her lips.

"They won't come in, cyar'ika, but they're hyper alert highly trained men." He kept his voice low, rocking hard her mercilessly in a seemingly effortless display of upper body strength. "We're trained to be aware of what's going on, cyar'ika…"

His words finally broke through her jumbled thoughts and she caught on to what he was saying. Her head flew up from his shoulder. "You meant they know…oh, gods…"

She didn't manage another word; too busy kissing him breathlessly, tightening her grip again and squirming in time with his thrusts.

He knew when she was rushing towards release and increased his efforts, slowing his movements to draw out the pleasure and hear her whine in desperation. He had ultimate control when she was gripped in his arms like this. He was going to make this last as long as possible now that she had realised they were safe from intruders…but only due to the high observational skills of clone commandos…

* * *

Graves was still by E'li's side, unable to bring himself to move away from the general. He was conscious but definitely not his usual chirpy sense and the area around the bacta patch on his lek was now bruised a deep, dark purple against his lilac skin.

"Sir?" Graves touched the Jedi's hand, trying to draw him out of his daze and at least get him talking.

E'li blinked slowly, and squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. His head and lek were throbbing and it was affecting his ability to focus. He wanted to meditate and attempt to heal the damage but it was proving hard to get in to the correct state of mind. When he opened his eyes again he was met with the ARC trooper's worried gaze. "I'm sorry, Graves." He curled the injured lek around his chest, subconsciously protecting it from any touch. It was so sensitive he just couldn't bare the idea of anything brushing against it. "I'm okay…I'll be okay. I need to meditate."

He closed his own hand around Graves' fingers, feeling the warmth and power flowing in to his fingers.

This was the only way he'd manage this. He needed the help.

He shut his eyes and tightened his grasp. "I need your help, brother." He felt a flash of nerves from the ARC trooper, but that quickly settled in to resolution. He could tell without looking that Misfit had moved over beside his Alpha brother and that was enough to calm Graves. "I need you to use your strength to help me, but if you start to feel dizzy you must tell me and I'll stop."

He paused, keeping his eyes closed and waiting for a wave of throbbing pain to pass before continuing. "Misfit, when your brother ignores that order he will faint. I need you to settle him down comfortably and let him rest. He'll be fine but it's like draining a battery and he will need to sleep. I will be in a trance state and may not realise or wake."

Misfit nodded, squeezing his brother's shoulder bracingly.

It went exactly as E'li had said. Misfit sat beside them until Graves began to waver. He was ready to catch him when he slumped in to dead faint. "Steady, brother, udesii…I've got you. I've got you." He lowered his brother down gently in to a prepared nest of blankets, pushing his hair from his face and stroking his cheek. He was pale, but E'li had said not to worry, and Misfit trusted their General, so he gave one the tattooed cheek a soft kiss and tucked the blanket around him.

The small living room was a crush of bodies but Misfit had still managed to make enough space around them for E'li to rest as well. The twi'lek wasn't a natural talent with force healing and despite his hopes, he seemed to have lost his healing trance when Graves' power dissipated.

He stared blankly towards Misfit while the Alpha regarded him with concern. It didn't seem like he was entirely there, but he was better than he'd been before. The wound on his lek had taken on a shiny appearance which preceded healing tissue.

"C'mon, sir." Misfit tried to gently ease the twi'lek down on to the blankets beside his sleeping brother. It was harder with E'li; Graves had been unconscious but the Jedi was in a strange place in-between. It was like trying to move someone with rigor mortis but an Alpha wouldn't be defeated and he soon had them both situated under a blanket.

The rest of the room was in a state of cautious optimism. Rami had a big grin on his face because he'd finally worked out where Mire had disappeared to - _poor, innocent vod'ika_ – and Varik was doing his utmost not to smile. Of course Varik didn't seem to have much of a sense of humour when it came to sex, but Misfit wasn't as blind as Kappa; he could see straight through Varik's act. The Sergeant may have a stick up his shebs, but right now that was just because it was the closest he would come to the real thing…

Misfit sniggered at his own silent joke then looked up guiltily as they all turned to give him questioning looks.

Naturally, it was the Sergeant who voiced his thoughts first. "What's funny?"

Misfit shook his head, raising his hand in surrender. "Absolutely nothing, Var'ika, honest." He let another twitch of humour cross his face. "…should we offer to help Nora with the food?"

Faro raised an eyebrow from his spot perched cross legged on the arm of the sofa. It was quite a show of balance for a big man, but it was relying on the fact that Rami would stay put on the seat as counterbalance…and the youngster was looking as if he'd bounce up at any moment. "I don't think that would be very sporting. Give our vod a chance to vent a little pressure first."

Rami made to stand but was firmly pushed back by Faro's hand on his shoulder. He squirmed and looked up mischievously. "Aw, c'mon, Far'ika. I know you don't have an appetite for such things, but he crept up on me a pitcher of water over me…told me it'd cool my ardour. He nearly fried my datapad and you have no idea how long it took me to find good material." He scowled a most unintimidating scowl at his brothers. "…since you claim to have none and Varik won't share. I want to get some revenge. I won't even look – I'll just open the door and given him a shock!"

"No." Faro's voice was firm. "You were just lying there in the bunkroom going at it…if you'd gone somewhere for privacy it would have been wrong, but as it was, you were fair game. If you're in a bunkroom, expect company. We all use that space." He sniffed. "Anyway, he could have thrown a _bucket_ of water over you and the datapad would be fine. Commando quality GAR issued kit, vod'ika."

"I do feel sorry for you, Rami. I can't imagine being stuck with those oldies all the time. Good on Mire. At least he's giving it some exer-" Misfit came to an abrupt halt as the door slid open.

Rami leapt out the chair guiltily, letting the furniture tip suddenly and deposit a shocked Faro on to the floor with a curse and a thump. "I didn't do anything…" He snapped his jaws closed as he realised his error.

Mire grinned and grabbed his vod'ika in a playful headlock, gripping just hard enough to prevent him tugging free of his own accord. "How long do you think I've been standing outside that door, hmm?" He gave his brother's hair a scrub then let go, allowing him to stumble away a few steps.

Varik waited until Rami had made a tactical withdrawal on the excuse of using the 'fresher then leant over to mutter in Mire's ear. "How long _where_ you standing outside the door?"

Mire grinned wickedly. "As far as Rami's concerned, I heard the whole thing. Really? I didn't need to hear anything. We need to work on our vod'ika's sabaac face!"

* * *

Graves woke abruptly, initially struggling to work out where he was. He had the warm, familiar bulk of Missy pressed against his back, but he also had someone in front of him and it wasn't a brother. He blinked against the darkness, feeling his second bed-made squirm and shudder. His arm brushed against a solid appendage that was neither arm nor leg…lekku; it was E'li. It was the squirming that had woken him up.

He untangled one arm from the blankets and wrapped it around the twi'lek's chest, drawing him closer in a protective gesture. In any other situation, it may have felt wrong or inappropriate, but everything was out of kilter. The evening had flown by; he'd been used as a living battery, passed out, slept, been woken – along with E'li – so that they could eat something, then gone back to sleep as quickly as before.

They were distributed about the living room floor of Mire's extremely tolerant female – although Graves certainly wasn't complaining about the accommodation; they'd slept in much worse – but it was still strange. Not to mention the fact that the cramped place was beginning to take on a distinctly musky smell that seemed to gather around vode when they packed in to any space! Graves didn't mind it, but if left unchecked, it could get a bit strong. They'd all do better for a good scrub down back in the barracks after that river dipping. A quick communal shower in Nora's tiny 'fresher hadn't really done the job.

Usually E'li smelt different, but the river dunking and such exploits had left him smelling the same as everyone else. This is the sort of detail that would be missed by most individuals, but clones were highly attentive to detail…especially when their nose was in close proximity to the source!

The twi'lek crawled out from under the blanket and hobbled away over the scattered bodies towards the door. He was shuffling along with one arm wrapped around his waist, silently opening the door into the hallway and slipping out. His borrowed fatigues stuck to his back and chest like a second skin.

He wasn't entirely surprised to find Graves materialise by his side. The Captain had become distinctly protective in the past twelve hours. He still moved to informally dismiss him. "Go back to bed, Graves." The Alpha was still very pale after his second-hand brush with the effort of force healing. "You need your rest."

Graves ignored this, reaching out to touch the twi'lek's skin, laying his palm on the lilac forehead. His General was clammy and sticky to the touch.

He'd just opened up his mouth to begin questions, when E'li groaned and doubled over; sagging against the wall. The skin on his knuckles had gone white where he squeezed his tunic in a death grip. He took a gulpy breath and whined desperately.

Graves had instinctively grabbed him and was now having the circulation cut off by the strength of E'li's grip on his wrist. "Sir?!" He didn't know what to do and in this unfamiliar environment, his natural instinct was to shout for a medic, but that wasn't going to get him very far. He could shout for Faro –

E'li slumped against the wall, feeling a sharp pain rip through him like nothing he'd ever felt before. It felt like his gut was twisting. He'd never felt pain like this. Twi'leks had multiple stomachs and could digest pretty much anything they were faced with – a necessity on Ryloth where food sources could be scarce. He'd never had anything make pain like this. "Oh Force…"

It was clear that Graves was beginning to panic, his mind working in overdrive.

 _It was giving him some unpleasant flashbacks to a mission where his Missy had got a lungful of airborne toxin through a badly damaged helmet seal. He hadn't been on that mission with his cyar'ika, and had no idea what had gone on. The toxin hadn't made itself known until 48 hours afterwards, when Misfit and his temporary squad were back on the transport ship. One of the squad had gone down and Misfit had diverted them towards the nearest frigate for medical assistance, but before they could reach them, he'd started to vomit blood just like the trooper vod. He'd made a terrified call to Graves, pleading for help despite knowing his cyar'vod could do nothing. Graves had been unable to do anything but raise a code red for the transport. But he'd had to listen to his sweetheart's pain, fearing that he wouldn't survive until help arrived. He'd never heard that degree of fear and pain in his brother's voice, and he hoped never to hear it again. He'd never be able to get the image of him curled up against the bulkhead beside another unconscious vod, with blood smeared down his chin out of his mind. It would be with him till the day he died._

 _E'li had been informed when Misfit and his ailing squad were transferred to the nearest medical centre, and he'd allowed Graves immediate leave to get there. It had sounded like Misfit wouldn't live. It had been the longest journey of Graves' life and by the time he got there, Misfit was on life support. He hadn't been allowed to go in and hold his hand because of the quarantine requirements._

 _The medics had worked miracles. All affected vode pulled through but it had still been terrifying._

Looking at E'li's scared, pained eyes was enough to take him back to that moment, and every ounce of calm that had returned as E'li healed went racing away again like water between his fingers.

He tightened his grip as the twi'lek sunk lower and let out a sound that was animalistic in its distress.

"Medic!"


	24. Chapter 24

Graves' shout had raised the squad, who always woke to those ingrained sounds. Somehow Varik had managed to achieve a rare feat and had got through the doorway ahead of Misfit, although a little elbowing may have been involved, judging by the glower on his face. Misfit was next through the door with a thunderous scowl.

He was at Graves' should in an instant. "What happened?" He shifted to support E'li's other side since it was pretty much only Graves' grip that was keeping the twi'lek off the floor.

Varik brought a hand up, stopping his squad from crowding in too close. "Give him space, vode."

E'li whimpered and still tried to sag down towards the floor despite the towers of support on either side. The pain that had woken him was intensifying like fire and he couldn't contain his groans as Misfit lifted him and carried him back to the living room. His muscles were involuntarily tense and he couldn't stop himself shivering; it was so intense that he couldn't get any words out.

The Alphas who had monopolised the space beside him by snarling at Kappa were nudged aside by the Suu'ri before they could think of anything to do other than panic.

The female twi'lek knelt and laid a hand on E'li's abdomen, moving her fingers slowly and watching his reaction as she applied pressure. "What has he eaten?" She eased the pressure as E'li groaned and shuddered; cooing soothing words at him and stroking his shoulder.

Nora looked on, wide eyed and scared. "Just soup…"

"And what went into the soup?" Suu'ri urged for more information in a gentle but insistent tone.

Nora looked briefly to Mire for moral support because she could feel hard eyes on her, especially from the Alpha Captain. "Vegetables…just whatever I had available; onions, carrots, potatoes…and some nuna meat, in a nuna stock, with salt and pepper…a little flour and butter to thicken it…"

"Nuna?!" Suu'ri's tone had turned more towards alarm, but she was maintaining calm in her actions. "You gave him nuna?"

"Y…yes?" Nora didn't understand what she'd done wrong, and it appeared that the clones didn't either, judging by their expressions.

"Twi'leks can't eat nuna." Suu'ri's lekku were flicking in what seemed to be a nervous manner. "The protein reacts with the body the at the villi between the first and second stomach. It's an immune reaction…"

"What can we do?" Graves interrupted, watching E'li like a hawk. "We can get him to the medcentre…"

"No!" E'li's protest was somewhat ruined by the pained tone to his voice, but the conviction was still strong.

They were technically AWOL, although with luck, nobody would have realised that since the General was with them. But to go to the medcentre would risk unveiling their illegal actions; to thieve an inconsequential slave girl…there was no excuse.

E'li would probably get away with a severe reprimand, but the clones…

"No." E'li repeated himself firmly, managing to keep the wobble out of his voice. "You're all at risk…" He grimaced and held his breathe, unable to continue.

Graves reached out to take his General's hand in a fierce grip. "We don't care about that, sir. We made our decision to come along." He couldn't bear to see the twi'lek in so much pain, especially considering it had been entirely preventable. He turned his eyes on Nora, unable to keep the snarl from his lips. "Why did you give him nuna?"

His tone was enough to put fear through any individual – it even made Rami shiver – and Nora visibly shrunk back from the criticism; tears in her eyes. "I didn't know…I didn't think…" She reached to squeeze the twi'lek's shoulder but Graves actually growled at her and she stopped short of touching him, pulling her hand away as if she'd been scalded.

Mire took offense at the threat to his partner and moved to put himself between her and any _threat_. His posture screamed back off, and he fixed Graves with a scowl. "Don't speak to her like that. You didn't know. I didn't know. It was an accident."

Graves tensed and had it not been for E'li tightening his grip on the Captain's hand, it was highly likely that the posturing would have come to blows. Instead, the Alpha reluctantly turned his attention away from Mire and looked to Suu'ri instead. "What can we do? What does he need?"

She had been ignoring the argument going on had kept her attention on E'li, rubbing his arm soothingly. At Graves' words she looked up shyly. "It's not going to do him any lasting damage, but the best we can do is make him comfortable. If it had been a human getting a reaction like this, it would just go straight through you and you'd get relief from the worst of the pain. But we have multiple stomachs and that can't happen. It hurts, lots. But he'll be okay once it's worked through his system." She looked towards Nora. "Is there anywhere we could get herbs? I've never experienced it, but we all learn how to make a good pain killer. My momma taught me."

Nora half-shrugged. "There's a shop a few blocks away, but it's not the sort of area where you want to be walking around after dark." She looked sideways at Mire, knowing that he hated the fact that she lived somewhere risky. "It'll be light in-"

"I'll go with you." Misfit pushed himself up and reached for his boots.

Nobody would mess with an Alpha ARC; not twice, anyway.

* * *

 ** _Notes:_**

 ** _I am writing the twi'lek reaction to nuna protein to be the equivalent of a coeliac reaction to gluten._**  
 ** _I feel that it is often misunderstood, as so many people assume - when I explain that I have coeliac disease - that it is an allergic reaction to gluten. It's not; it's an autoimmune reaction. It doesn't pose any risk that to me that is equivalent to say anaphylactic shock would to a peanut allergy sufferer. Cross contamination to a coeliac sufferer isn't life threatening (although repeated exposure does do lasting damage) but it is extremely painful. I've not actually eaten a product containing gluten since getting diagnosis, but I have been exposed to tiny volumes of cross contamination that occur accidentally in a shared kitchen - and even that tiny amount has given me pain that I can't measure against anything else._**  
 ** _So what I'm writing E'li experiencing, is being written from my own experiences - although no herbal cocktail does much for coeliac disease unfortunately! (Mint is a natural antispasmodic, and peppermint tea is great for the lingering after affects and for anyone who experiences an upset stomach for whatever reason, I'd highly suggest a soothing cup of mint tea! But it doesn't work for a fully blown coeliac reaction until the worst has past.)_**


End file.
